Thursday, August 22, 2024

How to Be a War Poet — Part 5


In a new series of 12 monthly essays, poet, journalist, and U.S. Army veteran Randy “Sherpa” Brown explores how military service members, family members, and citizens can develop a practice of poetry toward improved mindfulness, empathy across the “civil-military divide,” and even political or social action. 

* * * * *

How to Be a War Poet — Part 5
“Scouting the Literary Terrain: How and Where to Find War Poems”
by Randy “Sherpa” Brown

A military mission-briefing usually starts with an overview of the current “situation,” in which the presenter overviews such factors as current weather, terrain, and enemy posture. Where are we? Who is located around us? Who is friendly and who isn’t? Where are the likely points of engagement?

Today, we have another “naming of parts”—this time, a kind of map-orientation to the literary landscape. Earlier in this series, we labelled some basic components found in individual poems. Enough vocabulary to start a conversation. This month, we’ll describe some of the avenues through which we produce, publish, and perform poetry. These channels can encompass events, places, and publications. Riffing on soldier-speak, this is the poetic domain—the war poet’s battle-space. Our earth and air and sky and space.

Writing workshops may be designed to inspire new writing, improve existing writing through critique, or provide new artistic skills and insights. And they may perform more than one of these functions. One session can be an hour or two in duration. They can be virtual (on-line), in-person, or “hybrid” (both on-line or in-person).

Writing workshops can be designed as singular, “one-off” events. They can also be designed as one-day affairs, or even whole weekends. They can be implemented as limited series—perhaps meeting weekly or monthly—or as come-whenever-you-can hang-outs. They can be free, or conducted for a fee. Fees charged usually compensate facilitators for their expertise and time, but can also help pay for venue rental and snacks. After all, while no one gets into poetry to make money, someone has to keep the metaphorical lights on.

Workshops can be generative, meaning they are focused on creating new work through prompts, discussions, and “in-class” writing time. Particularly if conducted in multiple sessions, however, workshops can also be focused on providing peer-critiques. In these types of events, participants  provide mutual, constructive feedback to their fellow writers’ works-in-progress. Finally, workshops can center on honing craft: Learning new writing techniques, styles, and tools through  through lecture and discussion.

Events can focus on not only on generating poems and adding to our respective poetry toolkits, but also offer opportunities to share our work through performance. Performance events can take place in coffee shops, libraries, book stores, churches, public parks—you name it. If you’ve got a physical or virtual space, there can be space for poetry.

Poetry readings can focus on the works of one or more visiting or featured poets, or be conducted as karaoke-like “open-microphone” events. In the latter, poets each volunteer for a few minutes of performance time. 

Rules for participation in open-mic events can vary: Sometimes, signing-up to participate might be a matter of signing up on a legal pad right before the event. “First-come, first-served.” Other times, participants might register on-line, days before the event. Sometimes, “open-mic” time might precede a reading by a featured poet or performer, which can help draw larger audiences.

In any case, if you decide to participate, make sure to follow each event-organizers’ rules. Buy something to support either the host or performance space—a coffee, a featured book, a T-shirt. Be polite and supportive of all the performers. When it’s your turn, be brief. Sit down when your time is up. Remember the old infantry phrase for individual battlefield movements: “I’m up. They see me. I’m down.”

poetry “slam” is a spoken-word event, often judged by a panel. In slam events, poets recite one or more previously written poems of their own creation. A typical time-limit per poet is 3 minutes. Judges consider factors such as performance, composition, and engagement. Poetry slams are full of energy and vocalized audience reactions—it’s not uncommon to hear snaps, claps, cheers, and shouts of approval, as might be heard at a sports competition. As in sports, there can be local, regional, and national slams. Some slams can be qualifiers for higher levels of compeition.

Venues for sharing poetry aren’t limited to “on the stage,” however. There are many venues for sharing poems “on the page” as well—whether those words are printed on paper or published on-line. 

literary journal is an on-line or print publication, focused on creative forms of writing. Creative writing can include poetry, short fiction, essays, creative non-fiction, and more. Depending on a journal’s mission statement—how editors there define what they publish and what they don’t—they can also be potential places to publish short plays, photography and visual art, comics and sequential stories, and other work. 

Before submitting to any literary publication, always make sure to read and follow editor’s suggestions and guidelines. Look for a given publication’s “about” pages or mission statements, or open “calls for submission.” Follow instructions. Also, sample a few past issues, to make sure that your work seems similar in voice, tone, and content to editors’ past selections.

Remember, literary journals can be general-interest—seeking to publish only the very best of contributors’ submissions, regardless of theme or topic. Journals can also be very specific in focus, however. For example, the Taco Bell Quarterly features only work that somehow mentions the products, culture, and other elements of the popular fast-food chain. Editors there write: “Is this real? A joke? A literary psy-op? We don’t fully know. We just decided to write about Taco Bell.”

For war poets, there are literary journals that regularly explore the lived experiences and writing of military service members, veterans, and family members—or, more widely, what it means to witness or participate in uniformed service, war, and peace. Examples of such journals include, but are not limited to:

(On a more-personal note, I’ll also point to As You Were, the on-line literary journal of the national non-profit Military Experience & the Arts, and a publication with which I have proudly volunteered as a reader and editor for many years.)

Sometimes, particularly around Veterans Day (U.S.), Memorial Day (U.S.), and Remembrance Day commemorations, editors of general-interest literary publications will post calls-for-submission focused on military- or war-themes. These opportunities can be ideal platforms to reach beyond audiences who have lived or adjacent to military service, to engage and encourage conversations with “civilian” readers—those with no direct or immediate experience of military life. This is the way poets and editors can help bridge the “civil-military gap” we often hear about in social-media discourse—how we spark moments of conversation, discussion, and recognition. Ultimately, through our words, we hope to create opportunities for mutual understanding and empathy.

poetry collection is a book of poetry by a single author. Definitions vary, but publishers often specify that a collection should contain more than 50 poems. Often, a number of these poems will have been previously published in literary journals, popular magazines, and other platforms. Some publishers specify that a collection should contain no more than 50 percent previously published material. The other half should be “new”—previously unpublished. Guidelines vary by publisher, however. When submitting to contests and publishers, make sure to follow each venue’s specific instructions.

(An additional terminological wrinkle: “best of” retrospective and special-themed collections by a single author can also be marketed as “selected poems by.” One great example of this type of book is Mary Oliver’s “Dog Songs.”)

As works by single authors, collections often address multiple and even interconnected themes. We war-poets “contain multitudes,” after all. In curating a collection, poets and publishers play with adjacencies—locating certain poems to be read alongside (or perhaps opposite) each other. As an editor of other poets’ manuscripts, as well as my own, I can say there is a particular and additional magic to be discovered in creatively sequencing poems, and sections of poems. Navigating a poetry collection is very often a different reader-experience than encountering a given poet’s work (even your own) one or two poems at a time. Your own poems can surprise you.

poetry chapbook is something like pamphlet—a ”smaller than a book” assemblage of poems by one or more authors, usually focused on a singular theme. Again, definitions vary, but chapbooks can comprise between a handful of poems, up to a few dozen.

Back in the ancient, pre-Internet times, we used to photocopy or otherwise reproduce such small publications, folding and stapling them by hand, in effect “publishing” one chapbook at a time. In this way, we’d manufacture enough product to share with our friends, or distribute (usually for free) in coffee shops and campus hang-outs. They weren’t always meant to be something that would last—they were considered “ephemeral,” akin to a pamphlet or a brochure. In the 1980s and 1990s, however, the rise of desktop publishing and color laser-printers made it very easy to achieve a slick “professional” look and feel—and higher production quantities. And today’s Print-on-Demand (POD) vendors make it even easier to design, print, and distribute “chapbooks,” if that’s the desired aesthetic.

You don’t have to use a computer, however. Even today, some poets are more-motivated by the “old” ways. They create hand-crafted or artisanal products.

Remember: It’s all art, regardless of the means of production. The only rule of chapbooking is to make the process your own.

poetry anthology is a collection of works by multiple writers, curated by editors around a theme or other organizational idea. The books “Giant Robot Poems: On Mecha-Human Science, Culture & War” and “Things We Carry Still: Poems & Micro-Stories about Military Gear” would each be  examples of the form. One centers solely on poetry, the other is mix of poetry and prose.

Poetry associations, societies, circles, and other literary organizations often host poetry events, including author readings, and open-mic and slam events. They also publish their own journals and anthologies, and conduct contests. Start your search for state-level poetry associations or societies, perhaps via the National Federation of State Poetry Societies.

Veterans, service members, and military-family members might find poetry and writing opportunities via non-profit organizations such as Warrior Writers and Community-Based Art Works (CBAW). Both groups also regularly offer virtual and sometimes in-person workshops. For writers just starting their publishing efforts, the editors at the previously mentioned non-profit Military Experience & the Arts also uniquely sometimes offer to “workshop” material submitted to its literary journal.

You might also find community-based writing centers in your area. In New York City, The Poets House is a poetry-centered library and education center. In Minneapolis, the Loft Literary Center includes poetry offerings, including year-long poetry-apprenticeship programs.

Sometimes, regional literary organizations are centered on famous local poets. In Franconia, New Hampshire, for example, there is The Frost Place—a house museum non-profit education center dedicated to the memory of Robert Frost (1874-1963). The Hugo House in Seattle, Washington is a non-profit writing centered named after the Seattle-born poet (and World War II military veteran) Richard Hugo (1923-1982). 

Finally, many cities and states have designated poets laureate. (Note the fancy plural—similar to “sergeants major.”) Often unpaid volunteers appointed by mayors, arts councils, and state governors, these poets serve limited terms as public arts advocates and educators. Depending on their own artistic interests, they may conduct seminars and workshops, host poetry readings and other events, and even write “official” poems commemorating or celebrating particular events. Think of them as poetry influencers—potential beacons and deacons of any local poetry “scene.” Find where they hang out, and you’ll soon be on your way yourself.

So, there you have it: A situational brief for your own bardic mission. A once-around-the-world primer on the people, places, and publications of the poetry domain. Now that you know how to describe what you’re looking at, you can begin to strategize and plan where to go next. Where will you share your poetry? Where will your poetry journey take you?

Next: Touching the Face of God: War Poems in the Air.

* * * * *

Randy “Sherpa” Brown is a 20-year retired veteran of the Iowa Army National Guard, and the author and named editor of more than six military-themed poetry collections, anthologies, and chapbooks of poetry and non-fiction. One recent such project is “Things We Carry Still: Poems & Micro-Stories about Military Gear,” which he co-edited with fellow war poet and military spouse Lisa Stice (“Letters in Conflict: Poems,” 2024). Since 2015, he has served as the poetry editor of As You Were, the literary journal of the non-profit organization Military Experience and the Arts. He also regularly shares tips and techniques regarding military-themed writing at The Aiming Circle, a patron-supported community of writing practice. More info: linktr.ee/randysherpabrown

Thursday, July 18, 2024

How to Be a War Poet — Part 4


In a new series of 12 monthly essays, poet, journalist, and U.S. Army veteran Randy “Sherpa” Brown explores how military service members, family members, and citizens can develop a practice of poetry toward improved mindfulness, empathy across the “civil-military divide,” and even political or social action. 

* * * * *

How to Be a War Poet — Part 4
“War Poetry Never Dies: The Thin Red Lines that Connect Generations”

When I travelled to Fort Knox, Kentucky to take my first boot-steps in the U.S. Army, I brought with me a copy of William Shakespeare’s “Henry V.” During fireguard duty—every night, we’d take 1-hour shifts acting as human smoke-detectors in our extremely flammable WWII-era barracks—I’d keep myself awake by memorizing ye olde bardic bits. One fragment that has never grown old is King Harry’s “St. Crispin’s Day” speech, rallying the troops against the French:

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

I wasn’t, of course, the first shavetail to latch onto the whole “band of brothers” thing. British Admiral Horatio Nelson (1758-1805) famously referred to the ship captains under his command as such, starting with the 1798 Battle of the Nile. And “Band of Brothers” was both the title and epigraph to a 1992 book by historian Stephen E. Ambrose, which also became a popular cable TV mini-series in 2001.

In a World War II narrative comprising 10 episodes, the HBO series tells the story of E Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment—part of the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne “Screaming Eagle” Division. With the first episode airing just a few days before the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, the HBO series was formative to many veterans of the Global War on Terror (GWOT).

Besides “band of brothers” references, there are other poetic threads to be pulled from military history. The Crimean War (1853-1856) saw an alliance of the United Kingdom, France, the Ottoman Empire, and others fight Imperial Russia over, among other things, the rights of Christians in Palestine. The war echoes even today, in poetic bursts that are still oft-quoted. Catchphrases such as: “Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to do and die” are regularly uttered in military ranks, whether in offices and foxholes.

The Battle of Balaclava (Oct. 25, 2854) was notable for the “Charge of the Light Brigade,” in which a British commander of unarmored, sword-carrying cavalry disastrously misunderstood a superior’s order, and attacked an Russian artillery position head-on, under blistering fire. Six weeks later, basing his lines on battlefield reports published in newspapers, the poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson commemorated the valor of the doomed troops. The short narrative poem, titled “Charge of the Light Brigade,” includes lines that sound like the start of a “there I was” war story among veterans of any era:

[...] Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
   Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
   Rode the six hundred. [...]

Earlier and elsewhere in the same battle, a British infantry commander with too few troops to defend against the attacking Russian cavalry reportedly said, “There is no retreat from here, men. You must die where you stand.” Defending in a line formation only two-soldiers-deep—the doctrinal manual called for four—the red-coated Scotsmen of the 93rd Sutherland Highlanders successfully stood their ground. Some lived to tell the tale. (A famous 1881 painting by Scottish painter Robert Gibbs, titled “The Thin Red Line,” further adds to the resulting mythology.)

The phrase “Thin Red Line” became a lasting and popular metaphor—a reminder that any given country’s armed force is a limited resource. One of my go-to poems in discussions with veterans, British poet Rudyard Kipling’s 1890 poem “Tommy,” includes more than one “thin red line” reference. Similar to perhaps to the American “G.I. Joe,” the nickname “Tommy Adkins” is historically a fictional, universal nickname for a British soldier. Written in the embittered voice of a common “Tommy,” Kipling’s poem recounts a list of grievances, contrasting citizens’ patriotic fervor during wartime with their begrudging poor treatment of soldiers during peace:

[…] Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap. 
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit. 
Then it’s Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ’ow's yer soul?”
But it's “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll [...]

Metaphors can expand and evolve over time, of course, and “thin red line” is no different. For example, “The Thin Red Line” is also the title of a 1962 novel by World War II U.S. Army veteran James Jones. The book is semi-autobiographical, and regards American troops fighting on the Pacific island of Guadalcanal.  The novel has generated two movie adaptations, in 1964 and 1998. The 1998 version was directed by Terrence Malick, and is a philosophical and cinematic masterpiece—an art-house war movie. In terms of capturing the brutal absurdities of war, I’d rank it up there with other favorites, such as Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket” (1987) and Francis Ford Coppola’s “Apocalypse Now” (1979). The titular line from Jones’ book isn’t quoted directly in the 1998 movie, but for the author, “There’s only a thin red line between the sane and the mad.”

The “Thin Red Line” is also ancestor to the “Thin Blue Line,” a phrase that has poetic origins as a reference to the U.S. Army in a 1911 poem by Nels Dickmann Anderson, but in modern times usually refers to law-enforcement personnel. The “Thin Blue Line” is variously characterized as a symbolic line separating order and chaos, or civil society and criminality. One potential problem with the metaphor is the implied “us vs. them” relationship between a coercive paramilitary force and the citizenry that force is intended to protect. The modern “Thin Blue Line” phrase originated in 1922, in a series of defensive speeches by New York City Police Commissioner Richard Enright. It was the title of short-lived TV panel show produced in Los Angeles in the 1950s, and was a phrase popularized by a racist,  militaristic, and public-relations-focused Los Angeles police chief named William H. Parker III.

Various sloganeers and bumper-sticker manufacturers have tried to make other “thin lines” happen, usually in context of a decolorized American flag. (So much for “these colors don’t run”?) There are designs featuring a “Thin Green Line” that commemorate safety, conservation officers, or industrial workers. And “Thin Orange Line” designs for search-and-rescue personnel, emergency medical services, or construction workers. And even “Thin Red Line” flags for firefighters, rather than military personnel.

Obviously, it isn’t very standardized. Or even fully thought-out. Everyone seems to want to stand out in their own thin lines. To me, these ugly black flags seem more about declaring martyr status as a somehow under-appreciated, underdog minority. They are flags of claimed victim-hood.

I have, however, come to expand my personal canon regarding the “Thin Red Line” as metaphor. Rather than as an “us vs. them” crowbar, I think that it can be more usefully framed as something more akin to the “The Long Gray Line.” I first encountered this phrase in a the title of a 1989 book by historian Rick Atkinson, who traced the life-stories of three cadets of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point’s Class of 1966. The title evokes the tradition of envisioning the corps of cadets and its graduates as a long-running continuum of gray uniforms, reaching back into the past and marching toward the future. There’s also a 1955 movie directed by John Ford, “The Long Gray Line,” that uses a similar metaphor.

I think that if I’m going to continue to think of myself as part of any “red line,” it’ll be in this sense: A “Long Red Line” of citizen-soldiers (and poets) past, present, and future.

After more than 20 years “part-time” in U.S. Army uniform—including more than a few on full-time federal active duty—leaving my life as a citizen-soldier was difficult. I no longer saw the same friends and colleagues every month, or shared a common experience and mission with them. I came to realize how much I’d come to define myself in terms of that “Minuteman” mythos—someone who was ready, willing, and able to drop everything to run to the proverbial sound of the guns. (Because I was part of the Iowa Army National Guard’s 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry “Red Bull” Division, I was just as likely to deploy to the sounds of tornados, floods, and blizzards.) And yet, as a veteran, I still consider myself to be connected. That doesn’t give me the right to lecture my fellow citizens on how to carry or display a flag, or whether to kneel or non-kneel during prayers or sporting events. And it doesn’t entitle me to special parking spaces and sales discounts. But it does give me a potential connection, I suppose, to a community of sorts. Part of a tradition, perhaps. 

It might not be as well-known as Gibb’s “Thin Red Line” image, but there’s a 1988 military painting by Donna J. Neary, commissioned by the U.S. National Guard Bureau, that depicts a particular moment in my former unit’s history.  Her “The Red Bull in the Winter Line” depicts an World War II infantry assault against German soldiers at Mount Patano, Italy. The “Winter Line” refers to a series of German and Italian fortifications, that defended the route to Rome.

Inadvertently channeling a bit of Tennyson, I later wrote a poem about the unit’s “Red Bull” shoulder patch. The patch, coincidentally, was originally designed by Iowa painter, Marvin Cone, as he and his fellow Iowans were training in the New Mexican desert for World War I. In a nod to the title of Neary’s painting, I titled the poem “From a Red Bull in Winter” (The full poem appears in my 2015 collection, Welcome to FOB Haiku):

[…] The army wears its stories on our sleeves.
Every scrap is a battle, every stitch is a past.
We are canvas, leather, dust, and blood.
 
At airport gates and main street parades,
the right shoulder patch carries with it
Africa and Afghanistan, Italy and Iraq.
 
But you are more than these threads, these fragments, those bones:
You continue the march. You are the present, armed.
You are the “Attack!”

Whether it’s “cannons to the left of us, cannons to the right” or “‘Tommy, this’ and ‘Tommy that,’” reading (or writing!) a few lines of war poetry can connect us to a long line of citizens and soldiers past, present, and future. Poetry puts us in the boots of those who have served before, and hooks our chutes to a larger histories and experiences. Poetry can ground and center us—as veterans, as family members, as people with experiences with the military—and it can build bridges of mutual understanding, appreciation, and empathy.

War poems, after all, are war stories. Not the kind that seek to discourage discussion, full of “you had to be there” bluster and brick. But the kind that start with “there we were” and end with an invitation: “can you imagine?”

Like the song says, “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.”

But old poets? Man, they can live forever.

All it takes is a few lines, written in red.

Next: Scouting the Literary Terrain: How and Where to Find War Poems.

* * * * *

Randy “Sherpa” Brown is a 20-year retired veteran of the Iowa Army National Guard, and the author and named editor of more than six military-themed poetry collections, anthologies, and chapbooks of poetry and non-fiction. One recent such project is “Things We Carry Still: Poems & Micro-Stories about Military Gear,” which he co-edited with fellow war poet and military spouse Lisa Stice (“Letters in Conflict: Poems,” 2024). Since 2015, he has served as the poetry editor of As You Were, the literary journal of the non-profit organization Military Experience and the Arts. He also regularly shares tips and techniques regarding military-themed writing at The Aiming Circle, a patron-supported community of writing practice. More info: linktr.ee/randysherpabrown

Thursday, June 20, 2024

How to Be a War Poet — Part 3

 


In a new series of 12 monthly essays, poet, journalist, and U.S. Army veteran Randy “Sherpa” Brown explores how military service members, family members, and citizens can develop a practice of poetry toward improved mindfulness, empathy across the “civil-military divide,” and even political or social action. 

* * * * *

How to Be a War Poet — Part 3
“The Naming of Parts: How to Field-strip a Poem”

Last month, we suggested that a poem is a radio.

This month, we suggest that a poem is a gun. But that “gun” is not the right word.

Today, we have the naming of parts.

Before he was reassigned as a code-breaking translator of Italian and Japanese during World War II, British poet Henry Reed was first drafted into the Royal Ordnance Corps, where he served between 1941-1942. In his 1942 poem “Naming of Parts,” first published in New Statesman and Nation, he gently parodies a recognizable event in every soldier’s life: The introductory instructional brief.

No vocation, discussion, or relationship begins without a shared vocabulary. (Ask Tarzan! Ask Jane!) So any instruction—any event through which learning is to take place—necessarily begins with a definition of terms.

In his “Naming of Parts”—the first of an eventual series of six “Lessons of the War” poems—Reed alternates between the droning voice of an Army lecturer, and the distracted inner voice of a basic trainee. The topic at hand is basic rifle marksmanship. It begins: To-day, we have the naming of parts …

In my mind’s eye, I can see the classroom instructor using a pointer to indicate various figures on a diagram, or perhaps an oversized physical model of a rifle. I can also see a daydreaming student’s focus drifting fuzzily outward, perhaps through a window, to beckoning views of red and pink japonica flowers, which “glisten like coral in all the neighboring gardens.”

During my childhood years lived near Dayton, Ohio, my parents enrolled me into what I would later conclude was some sort of weekend youth hunter-safety instruction. I recall that it was sponsored by the Jaycees, but perhaps it was something more like the National Rifle Association. My parents are not gun people, nor am I. I suspect their motivations at the time were to provide me some summertime distraction, or possible connections to new friends.

Through the instruction, for example, I learned basic vocabulary terms, including “muzzle,” “sight,” and “butt.” (You can imagine the grade-school snickering.) After lectures and movies, we applied our new knowledge at an indoor BB gun range. Top shooters—of whom I was proudly one, two years in a row—moved on to team competitions, in events conducted on other summertime weekends, where we represented our geographic communities.

Where trophies only collect dust, however, some lessons were burned as aphorisms into my reptile-brain core, for later application as teenager, parent, and even citizen-soldier. For example: “Treat every weapon as if loaded.” And: “Never point a weapon at something you don’t intend to kill.”

After this indoctrination, I officially put away childish things. I was done playing with toy guns, and ever treating guns as toys.

Years later, through his drill-sergeant minions, Uncle Sam would build and reinforce upon these fundamental lessons. At Boot Camp, U.S. Army recruits learn that the term “gun” applies only to artillery pieces: In all other cases, “weapon” is preferred. Or the even-more-specific “rifle.” (Every service has its respective list of similar shibboleths. In the nautical branches, for example, I’m sure that sailors are similarly drilled to distinguish between “boats” and “ships.”)

There is even a sing-song didactic cadence—a parody inspired by the U.S. Marine Corps’ 1942 poem “The Rifleman’s Creed”—about the difference between one’s “rifle” and biologically male genitals. The phrase was immortalized in the Vietnam War movie “Full Metal Jacket” (1987), in which a drill instructor marches his skivvy-wearing platoon around the barracks. Each recruit bears his rifle at right-shoulder-arms, while cupping with their left hands their respective crotches. “This is my rifle, this is a my gun,” they chant. “This is for fighting, this is for fun.”

Today we have the naming of parts. Specifically, the naming of five basic concepts in poem-making: The foot, the line, the stanza. The volta. And the metaphor. With an awareness of these five key terms, I believe one can unlock any poem. Enough to discuss a poem and share it with others. Enough to handle a poem safely, and to point any dangerous ends in a safe direction.

(Disclaimer regarding the following definitions: I am not a professor of poetry. I am only a practitioner. If you want fancy book-learning, read more fancy poetry “how-to” books. Caveat emptor. “Take what you need; leave the rest.”)

Foot:

The individual soldier of poetry is the foot, which is a unit of rhythm. A foot is a repeated rhythmic sequence of two or more syllables. The number of “feet” in a line of poetry determines its “meter.” In John William’s celebrated score for the movie “Jaws,” the shark-beat “Da-DUM” is akin to a poetic foot; while the phrase “da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM” is akin to a meter of three—a “trimeter.”

People with degrees in poetry can wax on and rattle off complex discussions about the differences, say, between “iambic pentameter” and “dactylic hexameter.” Let them. As a lay reader and soldier-poet, I don’t necessarily need all that that academic pomp and nuance—I just need to know enough to appreciate how things in poetry go bang, and whether to squeeeeeze a poem or to keep my finger off the trigger.

Think of “meter” as something akin to “cadence.” Different poems have different rhythmic cadences—and sometimes, like the troops’ shuffle after a marching-drill command of “route step,” no rhythm at all.

Bonus tip: Simply reading a line of poetry out loud often reveals what words or syllables a poet intends to be emphasized. Often, working and chewing a poem in our mouths reveals new music. For example, I often revisit Natalie Merchant’s (as part of 10,000 Maniacs) 1987 song, “Gun Shy,” and revel in the various ways she articulates, navigates, and enunciates this phrase: “Stock and barrel, safety, trigger, here's your gun.”

Line:

A line of poetry is a phrase. When talking on the radio, to avoid detection by the enemy, soldiers are often trained to break transmissions longer than 3-seconds into multiple phrases with the procedural word “break.” Line-breaks in poems do similar service, to various effects.

I say again:

They visually.

Break.

The phrase.

Stanza:

In prose, we group thoughts into paragraphs. In poetry, we group thoughts into stanzas. A stanza is a group of lines arranged in a visual pattern. One or more blank line-spaces provide white-space, separating and organizing stanzas.

In Italian, “stanza” means “room” or a “station.” I think of stanzas as similar to assembling troops in formations. If a line of poetry can be compared to a squad of soldiers standing abreast, a stanza can be thought to appear as a group of squad-lines standing together as a platoon.

Volta:

In U.S. Army doctrine, one of the nine principles of war is ... “Surprise!” Nearly every poem has a moment of surprise—a “volta” or “turn”—a pivot-point at which something magic happens. Sometimes, it is a moment of clarity, an “a-ha” moment at which the reader is made to realize that the thing being addressed by a poem is, perhaps, not the thing at all. When the familiar becomes unfamiliar, or the unfamiliar becomes familiar.

And the volta can sometimes shift, as readers grow in our understanding and appreciation of poetry. Our potential appreciation of the poem “Naming of Parts,” for example, may grow with the revelation that, given the wartime shortages of 1942, Reed and his fellow recruits may not have had access to any actual rifles (or only to obsolete ones) during their classroom indoctrination. I say again: The trainers were forced to drone on about war, rather than provide soldiers any “hands-on” training with the weapons they would be expected to use on the battlefield.

Metaphor:

The engine of poetry is metaphor. A metaphor is an implied comparison of two objects, people, and/or actions. A “simile” is a related concept—it is an explicit comparison. When we say something is “like” another, it is a simile. “Poetry is like an engine” is a simile. “Poetry is an engine” is a metaphor.

Poets (and poetry readers) are insatiably hungry for new metaphors—new ways to illuminate and describe and express the human experience. Poets try to avoid chewing the same terrain, regularly choosing instead explode clichés, to provide thoughts and images in fresh combinations. Why? So that their words will fly past readers’ defenses hot and straight and normalpast cover, past concealment—to (SURPRISE!) accurately hit their intended targets.

In conclusion, here’s Henry Reed again:

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
          They call it easing the Spring.

We have today the naming of parts. After naming the parts, we can engage in conversations. About poems. About wars. About what we understand, and what we do not understand. About how we have changed, and how we have not.

Today, we have the naming of parts.

Next: War Poetry Never Dies: The Thin Red Lines that Connect Generations.

* * * * *

Randy “Sherpa” Brown is a 20-year retired veteran of the Iowa Army National Guard, and the author and named editor of more than six military-themed poetry collections, anthologies, and chapbooks of poetry and non-fiction. One recent such project is “Things We Carry Still: Poems & Micro-Stories about Military Gear,” which he co-edited with fellow war poet and military spouse Lisa Stice (“Letters in Conflict: Poems,” 2024). Since 2015, he has served as the poetry editor of As You Were, the literary journal of the non-profit organization Military Experience and the Arts. He also regularly shares tips and techniques regarding military-themed writing at The Aiming Circle, a patron-supported community of writing practice. More info: linktr.ee/randysherpabrown