When I was in high school, I worked at a small, upscale restaurant on the weekends. I did the kitchen prep before we opened and helped the head chef during the service. Mainly, I loved taking home leftover beef tenderloins and sampling the cocktail du jour. (Nothing makes a church kid feel more alive than being offered a dirty martini at 16.)
The chef was one of those people you just loved to be around. As a result, we spent a lot of time together, and I picked his brain excessively. I still remember one of our conversations clearly. We were finessing a duck ragu, preparing the slow-roasted bird with tomatoes, fennel, sage, and other herbs I couldn’t pronounce.
I questioned him, “Do these herb bundles, that eventually just get tossed, even make a big difference?”
And he proceeded to feign horror as if I had just broken a beurre blanc or sliced a steak with the grain.
I’ll never forget what he said next. “It’s about creating an experience. A dish needs layers.”
He went on to say a dish can’t lay flat on your tongue. As it moves around your mouth, it should delight you, surprise you, and tempt you. This doesn’t happen simultaneously. It’s a journey.
I think a good poem does the same.
A reader should feel as though the poem is an exploration, never quite knowing what will take place in the next line. What stanzas will pepper your throat, which lines remind you of the taste of your own blood? Which words sting like vinegar?
How, as poets, can we make our poems an experience? Here’s my favorite way.
Tension and release. A poem craves to be stretched like an elastic band, over and over, until it can’t stand it anymore, and then snap!
One can achieve this in a variety of ways. For example, creating patterns. Similar length sentences to build, build, build, and then BAM, a one-word sentence to break all the tension.
An enjambed poem creates a similar effect. As lines proceed forward with conviction, a reader is pulled along, almost as if the speaker is holding their hand saying, “Trust me, this will be worth it.”
A pattern in poetry needs to be broken. The band needs to snap. This often happens at the volta, the turn of the poem.
Matching the volta of your subject matter to the volta of your literary devices is absolutely special. This makes a poem feel like an old soul. It gives it depth, and notes of richness.
Say, for example, I’m writing about a poem about a tea kettle and it’s not really about the tea kettle, but I’m humoring myself for a few lines. As I build my enjambed lines and long sentences. I’m creating tension. Then all of a sudden, it’s clear, my poem is about how people get divorced over silly things like a tea kettle. This is my turn, my volta. I break all the tension with a short, snappy line that disrupts the pattern I’ve created. I provide relief for a moment.
Perhaps the poem is short and this is where it ends. Perhaps it’s not, and we repeat this over and over again.
A poem is like a menu. Whether it’s a short one-course meal or an eighteen-course tasting menu, we need to feel the anticipation, then release, then yearning, then rest. In this way, a poem is very human.
In the same way chefs take the time to build the layers of the dish, even with seemingly unseen or unappreciated ingredients like herb bundles, we too as poets can add layers and depth to our pieces with intentional moments of craft. They absolutely make a difference.
Xo
Maria
P.S. My writing community, Gather, is currently open to new members for a short period until spots fill. We have 5 spots left for our next 8-week writing table starting June 2nd. If you’re a writer looking to expand your craft and find sweet, creative community, don’t miss out. Register here.
Here’s what current members of Gather are saying:
“It’s obvious Maria is a fantastic poet, but she is also a fantastic facilitator. She’s created something truly special. Gather is a fun community of talented people pushing themselves to be better writers, and I feel so lucky to have been part of it. I can't wait to see how it grows.” - Isabelle Correa
"Maria has been such a pleasure to work with during “Gather”. She includes a brief lesson and prompt at the beginning of each workshop. It is always accessible and inspiring. She truly goes above and beyond for her writers and I feel like I have gained so much more confidence and skill since doing this workshop with her." - Alex Dawson
I had no idea that my tendency towards - and fondness for! - creating something that abruptly changes pace and meaning had a name; a volta. Thank you!
Sweet dang this was a nice read. And the ideas were beautifully weaved and explained. I love how you give desire to a poem, that it wants to go through tension and release, that it has it's own needs which if fulfilled will make it into a great poem. Can't wait to apply this and learn more from you.