“The Problem of the Prosaization of New Poetry” / Chen Qufei
New poetry and prose, these two literary genres, possess a relatively close kinship; “prose poetry” and “poetic prose” are precisely the transitional zone between the two. “Prose poetry” borrows the external form of prose—“divided into paragraphs rather than lines”—yet in essence still retains the texture of poetry: “the suggestiveness of meaning and various rhetorical techniques.”
The prosaization of new poetry is almost a problem that every beginner who first ventures into the creation of new poetry commonly faces. The main reason why works of new poetry are understood by readers as “line-broken prose” lies in the insufficient “texture” of the work itself, which fails to provide readers with the expected reading gain (interest and enjoyment). The insufficiency of textual texture in poetic works can be discussed from three aspects: (1) the structural level, (2) the semantic level, and (3) the level of expressive techniques. As for how to avoid writing new poetry as “line-broken prose,” this can be explored from the creative process: (1) the incubation stage, (2) the execution stage, and (3) the revision stage.
I. The Texture of the Work Text
There are two explanations for the origin of modern Chinese poetry:
(1) Vertical inheritance: Hu Shi advocated the “vernacular movement,” promoting “writing what I speak with my own hand,” thus initiating the trend of vernacular poetry. It was subsequently inherited by Wen Yiduo, Xu Zhimo, and others of the Crescent Moon School, who advocated “metrical new poetry.”
(2) Horizontal transplantation: Dai Wangshu and Li Jinfa introduced “Symbolism” from France, initiating the trend of “horizontal transplantation.” This was later inherited by Ji Xian’s “Modernist School” in Taiwan.
1. Structural Level
The structure of new poetry is not as rigorous as that of prose. Prose generally has a paragraph structure of “beginning, continuation, transition, and conclusion,” that is, an overall compositional arrangement. Micro new poetry may simply be a record of “fleeting impressions,” expressing the feeling of a “flash of inspiration,” and does not emphasize structural completeness.
However, it is undeniable that many well-known classic works not only possess a “paragraph structure,” but this structure is also simultaneously a “narrative structure”: “opening → turning point → climax → ending,” laying out a main storyline and possessing a complete narrative thread. For example, Xu Zhimo’s “Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again,” Zheng Chouyu’s “Error,” “Mistress,” and “Journey,” Ya Xian’s “Madwoman” and “Red Corn,” Yang Mu’s “When the West Wind Passes” and “Manuscript in a Bottle,” Luo Fu’s “Jinlong Chan Temple” and “Dialectics of Love,” Yu Guangzhong’s “Nostalgia” and “Seven Pieces of Summer Heat in the Mountains”… These classic works, regardless of length, all possess a fairly complete main storyline, outlining a concrete narrative contour. A new poem with a story not only allows readers to appreciate striking lines within the poem, but also enables them to remember the story narrated in it. Naturally, such a poetic work has higher aesthetic value and readability, rather than being a fragmentary piece with “fine lines but no fine whole.”
2. Semantic Level
From the grammatical level, a new poem inevitably contains some prose-like syntax that lacks texture, and often this occupies a considerable proportion, becoming the main component. In other words, having just a few lines with poetic texture to enhance the flavor is sufficient to support the whole piece. For example, the following two classic works:
“Mistress” / Zheng Chouyu
In a small blue-stone town, my mistress lives
And I leave her nothing
Only a patch of golden-thread chrysanthemums, and a tall window
Perhaps letting in a little of the vast sky’s loneliness
Perhaps… and the chrysanthemums are good at waiting
I think loneliness and waiting are good for a woman
So when I go, I always wear a blue shirt
I want her to feel that it is the season, or
The arrival of migratory birds
For I am not the kind of person who often returns home
This poem is widely known. In the first half, it uses description and imagined projection across distance; whether describing scenery or expressing emotion, the sentences proceed in a straightforward manner, without dense texture. In the latter half, it employs a subversive causal statement:
“I want her to feel that it is the season, or / the arrival of migratory birds / for I am not the kind of person who often returns home,”
which expresses the wanderer’s temperament of “acting freely as he pleases.” Only then does the whole poem gain complete dramatic tension and poetic texture.
“Jinlong Chan Temple” / Luo Fu
Evening bell
is the path for tourists descending the mountain
Ferns
along the white stone steps
chew their way downward
If snow falls here
and one only sees
a startled gray cicada
lighting up
the lamps in the mountains
one by one
Luo Fu, skilled in surrealist techniques, has a relatively higher poetic texture in his works. In this poem “Jinlong Chan Temple,” the proportion of lines possessing poetic texture is relatively high:
(1) “Evening bell / is the path for tourists descending the mountain” → synesthesia transforming sound into form
(2) “Ferns / along the white stone steps / chew their way downward” → personification + surreal magical technique
(3) “A startled gray cicada / lights up / the lamps in the mountains / one by one” → surreal magical technique
In new poetry, even sentences employing description, simile, or personification often remain straightforward and lack lingering richness, resembling prose:
“Error” / Zheng Chouyu
I pass through Jiangnan
That face waiting in the season blooms and falls like a lotus
The east wind does not come, the willow catkins of March do not fly
Your heart is like a small lonely city
Like a bluestone street at dusk
No footsteps sound, the spring curtain of March is not lifted
Your heart is a small window tightly shut
My clattering horse hooves are a beautiful mistake
I am not a returning man, but a passerby…
The fame of this poem undoubtedly ranks first in the minds of many readers of new poetry. The first half is actually plain; although it uses description and metaphor, there are no particularly striking lines with strong poetic texture. The key lies in the finishing touch of the ending:
“My clattering horse hooves are a beautiful mistake” → paradoxical statement
“I am not a returning man, but a passerby…” → selective syntax and a two-sided contrasting sentence
If these two golden lines at the end were removed, the preceding description would appear ordinary and unremarkable. By this standard, having one or two lines with strong poetic texture—highlight lines or golden lines—combined with other prose-like sentences of weaker texture is sufficient to constitute a poem. If, like Luo Fu’s works, striking lines appear everywhere, then the poetic texture becomes more refined, possessing better readability, or what may be called “aesthetic value.”
Therefore, prose-like syntax or sentences within poetic lines are necessary and important components; they are not criteria for measuring or detecting “prosaization.” The key lies in whether they are paired with fitting striking lines, enabling the whole poem to possess a lively poetic texture. If such finishing-touch lines are lacking, then it is merely “line-broken prose,” not even worthy of being called “prose poetry.”
3. The Level of Expressive Techniques
Based on the author’s experience in reading and evaluating poetry, the striking lines or “golden lines” within a poem must certainly contain some underlying craftsmanship—namely, formal design or expressive techniques in rhetoric. Even lyrical poems with dramatic tension such as “Error” and “Mistress” cannot do without such lines to sustain the whole piece. Consider the following well-known character poem:
“The Actress” / Xi Murong
Please do not believe in my beauty
Nor believe in my love
Beneath the face covered with greasepaint
I possess only the heart of an actress
Therefore, please, by all means, do not
Do not take my sorrow seriously
Nor let your heart break along with my performance
Dear friend, in this life I am only an actress
Forever within others’ stories
Shedding my own tears
Most of the lines in this poem are devoted to describing the author’s identity as an “actress,” portraying both real life and stage performance; these belong to narrative, prose-like sentences. The two striking lines at the end—“Forever within others’ stories / shedding my own tears”—this profound realization, or rather lament, is not only rich in texture and thought-provoking, but also fully encapsulates the theme of “The Actress.”
“Entering the Mountain with the Sound of Rain but Seeing No Rain” / Luo Fu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella
Singing “Plums in March are sour”
Among the mountains
I am the only pair of straw sandals → metonymy, using a part to represent the whole
Woodpecker, hollow hollow
Echo, cavernous cavernous
A tree spirals upward in pecking pain → objectification (tree) as another object (coiling dragon) + surreal magic
Entering the mountain
No rain in sight
The umbrella circles a piece of blue stone and flies → hyperbole + surrealism
There sits a man holding his head
Watching cigarette butts turn to ash
Descending the mountain
Still no rain in sight
Three bitter pine seeds
Roll along the road signs to my feet
I reach out to grasp them
And they turn out to be a handful of bird sounds → synesthesia transforming form into sound + surreal magic
From the analysis of each stanza, “A tree spirals upward in pecking pain” simultaneously employs objectification (tree transformed into another object, a coiling dragon) along with surreal magical technique; this is a striking line. The final stanza shines the brightest, with the richest poetic texture:
“Three bitter pine seeds / roll along the road signs to my feet / I reach out to grasp them / and they turn out to be a handful of bird sounds,”
because it simultaneously employs “synesthesia” and the “magical performance” of surrealism.
Now consider the following poem:
“The Sleepless Dog” / Yu Guangzhong (from “Seven Pieces of Summer Heat in the Mountains,” No. 7)
Often, after the last bus has passed
The vastness of heaven and earth leaves only
Half a mile or so away
The barking of a distant house dog, three or two sounds → diminishing hyperbole, with brightness
Only the lamp can understand
At this hour, the white-haired man beneath the lamp
Is also a sleepless dog → metaphor
But guarding another kind of night
Barking at another kind of dark shadow
As long as one listens from a distance
—say, from a hundred years away
One hears it clearly → surreal interweaving of time and space
In this poem, the lines that employ rhetorical devices all possess poetic texture. However, the stanza using diminishing hyperbole—
“The vastness of heaven and earth leaves only / half a mile or so away / the barking of a distant house dog, three or two sounds”—
is clearly more luminous in terms of poetic texture and semantic richness than the stanza using metaphor—
“At this hour, the white-haired man beneath the lamp / is also a sleepless dog.”
Within rhetorical figures, those more related to musicality belong to formal design, while those more related to semantics and artistic conception belong to expressive techniques. What concerns semantics and artistic conception ultimately governs the texture of poetry. Among those rhetorical figures of expressive techniques, based on the author’s understanding and application in both creative practice and critical analysis, they can be divided into three levels:
- Basic rhetorical devices: description, simile, personification (and objectification)
- Intermediate rhetorical devices: pun, metonymy, conversion, presentation, contrast (juxtaposition), irony, paradox, ellipsis, etc.
- Advanced rhetorical devices: metaphor (implicit), compressed metaphor, symbolism, hyperbole, synesthesia, surrealism
Being able to skillfully use basic rhetorical devices allows one to write prose poetry with an initial sense of texture. To reach the level of Luo Fu or the later Yu Guangzhong, one must be able to master advanced rhetorical devices with ease. For instance, Luo Fu’s finest poems almost revolve around the repeated interplay of “hyperbole, synesthesia, and surrealism,” yet without falling into cliché, constantly revealing Zen-like insight and peculiar charm. Therefore, if a new poet truly seeks progress, they should thoroughly study rhetorical devices and apply them deftly within poetic lines, rather than clinging to established poets for recognition. When your expressive techniques are well cultivated and you can produce astonishing works, senior poets will not only be willing to support you, but will also yield space for you—because this is the evolution of literature: the passing of the torch across generations. In other words, as long as your work has sufficient texture, no one will become the wall that blocks you. If you are a high-aspiring seagull Jonathan, what lies before you is the boundless ocean and the horizon awaiting your challenge, not the trivial crowd beneath your feet scrambling over small fish and shrimp.
II. Diagnosing from the Perspective of Creation
When a poem is written by the author into a blossoming form of “line-broken prose,” the problem lies in the following three stages: (1) the incubation stage, (2) the execution stage, and (3) the revision stage.
1. Incubation Stage
Many beginners, in the incubation stage, either seize upon a fleeting flash of inspiration and hastily attempt to imprint the ideas in their minds, or, for the sake of a captivating “red flower” line, force themselves to squeeze out several “green leaves” to support it. The former often results in fragmented and incomplete writing due to insufficient conceptual development and failure to utilize various forms of association, making it difficult to read. The latter fares no better; for the sake of one beautiful tree (a striking line), they forcibly construct a treehouse around it, resulting in an unsightly, makeshift structure. Once that self-perceived beautiful line is removed, what remains is merely a patchwork of verbal debris, lacking expressive power and aesthetic value, unable to enhance the striking line.
How long should the incubation stage last? According to the author’s creative experience, at least until about seventy percent of the draft is mentally completed before entering the execution stage of writing. During this incubation period, one must make good use of various forms of association: similarity, contiguity, contrast, causal relations, and horizontally leaping creative (transformational) imagination.
When these associations are effectively employed, one will gradually discover various concrete images of differing yet related qualities. At this point, one may take the theme as the center and radiate outward, drawing several concentric circles on the “mental page”:
(1) Innermost circle: images most closely related to the theme—such as external forms, sounds, smells, tactile sensations—concrete images perceivable through the five senses. These are usually obtained through “associative similarity.” For example, Zhang Chao of the Qing dynasty wrote in Youmeng Ying:
“Because of snow one thinks of lofty scholars; because of flowers, of beauties; because of wine, of chivalrous men; because of the moon, of good friends; because of landscapes, of delightful poetry.”
“Literature is landscape on the desk; landscape is literature upon the earth.”
(2) Second circle: spatiotemporal images related to the theme—such as the spatial setting or temporal context in which the theme exists. These are usually obtained through “associative contiguity.” For example, Zhang Chao wrote:
“Flowers cannot be without butterflies; mountains cannot be without springs; stones cannot be without moss; water cannot be without algae; tall trees cannot be without vines; people cannot be without their peculiar passions.”
Within spatial fields, each pair coexists and mutually gives rise to one another.
(3) Third circle: images that are opposite or contrasting to the theme, obtained through comparison—images that are contrary or in sharp contrast in nature. These are usually obtained through “associative contrast.” For example, Gao Shi of the Tang dynasty wrote in Yan Ge Xing:
“Soldiers at the front half dead and half alive; beauties beneath the tents still singing and dancing.”
Lu Xun’s self-mocking poem:
“With cold brows I face a thousand pointing fingers; bowing my head, I willingly become a child’s ox.”
Qiu Fengjia’s poem on leaving Taiwan:
“Those in power can cede land; a lone minister has no strength to turn back heaven.”
(4) Fourth circle: images that bear causal relationships with the core images of the theme. For example, Zhu Xi of the Song dynasty wrote in Reflections on Reading:
“How can the channel be so clear? Because there is a source of living water.”
Su Shi wrote:
“When one’s belly is filled with poetry and books, one’s temperament naturally becomes refined.”
“Source water and clear channel,” “poetry and temperament”—each pair forms a cause-and-effect relationship.
(5) Beyond the outermost circle: this is the boundless space where imagination soars freely—you may pursue ideas from the highest heavens to the deepest underworld. Through symbolism, hyperbole, sensory transference (synesthesia), transformation of images, montage-like juxtaposition, and the interweaving of time and space, you can discover many unexpected images. They may be strange, abrupt in tone, created from nothing, or irrational yet marvelous—as long as they have the opportunity to appear and perform in the subsequent stage of execution.
2. The Stage of Practice:
When, through the various associations mentioned above, you have found all kinds of images, the next procedure is to put pen to paper and compose:
(1) Selection and filtering:
Classify these images into categories, and carry out selection and filtering, eliminating those images that are unlikely to be used, as well as those that fail to add value to the theme you wish to express, retaining those images you intend to employ.
(2) Paragraph arrangement:
Lay out those usable images among the paragraphs of your poetic lines. The more ideal state is that, in each paragraph, you can use at least one or two images as the core images of that paragraph, as vivid and eye-catching as red blossoms, while the other images serve as decorative green leaves. Then, like pearls, string them together one by one in the order you have envisioned. The anticipated order may follow a chronological sequence along a timeline, or it may be a reverse narration from the present back to the past.
If you can conceive a main narrative thread and arrange the prepared images according to the sequence of the story—“occurrence → turn → conflict → climax → ending (reversal or divergence)”—then, supported by the narrative structure, each of your poetic paragraphs will contain several scenes generated from concrete images. These scenes will be assembled in sequence according to your narrative thread, linking together into a miniature story presented through continuous imagery. When your first draft is completed, as you read that poem taking its initial shape, you will simultaneously be watching a short film directed and shot by yourself.
3. The Stage of Revision:
For experienced poets and established masters, the revision stage is often “as light as a clear breeze”; only one or two images may need to be adjusted, or the order of poetic lines or paragraphs slightly rearranged, with perhaps one or two sentences modified in structure—this is also the habitual practice of “veteran drivers” like the author.
For beginners or writers with relatively short poetic experience, however, the revision stage is of crucial importance. Du Fu wrote in “Short Account of Poetry on the River”:
“For a person with a temperament fond of fine lines,
if the words do not astonish, one will not rest even unto death.”
And Yuan Mei of the Qing dynasty wrote in “Expressing Feelings”:
“Since ancient times, to write what one loves is difficult;
a poem must be revised a thousand times before the heart is at ease.
Even an old woman was once a maiden;
until her hair is fully arranged, she will not allow herself to be seen.”
Such is precisely this state of mind. After completing a first draft, it is advisable to let it settle for a few days, then take it out again for careful examination, scrutinizing the lines and sentences from the reader’s perspective. At this point, the following procedures are required:
(1) Remove the superfluous and preserve the essence:
Delete extraneous branches and leaves that lack expressive power or fail to add value.
(2) Substitution, addition, and deletion:
Attempt to replace wording or add and refine expressions, making the sentences smoother and generating new meaning.
(3) Correct faulty sentences:
Identify sentences with grammatical errors, or those with semantic contradictions or breaks in coherence, and revise them through grammatical adjustment, lexical modification, or replacement of imagery.
(4) Enhance the poetic texture:
Transform certain plain, straightforward prose-like sentences in the poem—those lacking expressive power or failing to add value—by employing rhetorical devices to refine and reshape them, allowing them to evolve into poetic lines rich in multiple meanings and full poetic resonance. For example:
- (A) Rewrite ordinary sensory descriptions into synesthetic expressions that interconnect the senses.
- (B) Transform ordinary imagery through exaggeration, deformation, or semantic dislocation.
- (C) Convert similes into metaphors, implicit metaphors, or even symbolic imagery.
- (D) Turn simple contrasts of imagery into side contrast (foil), parallel contrast, double contrast, or reverse contrast.
(5) Rearrange paragraphs and lines:
Based on the coherence and continuity of the narrative imagery, adjust the order of paragraphs or lines.
After completing revision, the work can be presented—posted or published—and then one may await readers’ resonance and immediate feedback. Readers’ feedback often provides the author with many unexpected ideas, serving as highly useful references for strengthening one’s creative power.
Postscript:
The author has published no fewer than 1,500 new poems in newspaper supplements, poetry journals, and literary magazines, and has received countless poetry awards, earning the nickname “prize hunter” among fellow poets.
Poetry critic Chen Qingyang (Chen Qufei)
July 7, 2020 — Anniversary of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident (War of Resistance Commemoration Day)
