Poetry | Writing | Tips

Caution, This Demonstration May Be A Failure

How To Improve Your Poetry -From a Top Writer in Poetry

I was excited to receive Top Writer status in Poetry on Medium this year. I enjoy writing poetry, but it wasn’t always my strong point. I used to write policy for a large financial institution. That might seem a bit odd at first, but clear concise writing that conveys the main message was always my goal.

I bring that to my writing here.

I’m going to walk you through my process, with a real-life demonstration of how I write a poem.

But there are no guarantees.

A few comments before we get started:

Edit mercilessly.

That’s my secret. Truly. That’s my main technique.

I spend quite a bit of time on each poem, removing words that don’t need to be there.

And then I go back and remove some more.

How to Begin?

Often my poems begin with an emotional rant. Something will spark my ego or ping my heart. I want to do something about it or say something, so I open a Word document and just type.

Sometimes I respond to a writing prompt or a question.

Stream of consciousness typing is a technique that can bring inspired ideas to the surface.

I type without thinking about writing a poem. I type without sticking to the topic.

Sometimes I end up with garbage. That’s ok. Many writers call this the shitty first draft.

Sometimes it turns into an article. That’s fine too. I enjoy writing and if I end up with a longer piece, that works for me.

I can take that article or the original rant and turn it into a poem too.

Here’s a word dump I found in my past writing:

Burdens: An Accounting

Saying yes when I mean no.

Saying no when I mean yes.

My burdens are my Precious.

They are a curated collection of emotions held in place by reasons and justifications. I’ve protected them for many seasons.

I am not able to completely set my burdens down by writing them. I’ve been considering other ways to set these precious bundles down. I am reluctant to release them into the ether. I’ve carried them for so long.

I’ve come to the conclusion that they can only be set down by revealing them to others in a witnessing way. Only by placing them into the hands of another, will I be able to release their weight.

I’ve experimented with speaking them out loud. Recording myself brings the words back to me in another way. The act of listening changes them inside of me.

When I play the recording, I am shocked at how serious I sound. The sting of the words is released in part with my breath as I say them. I am speaking a new language. I hear a different meaning. The words circle from my heart to my breath to my ears and back to my heart and there is a new interpretation.

Spoken word can have that effect — even if you are the only one that hears the words, the simple act of speaking your truth brings it into reality in a way that writing isn’t able to do.

When my burdens reach the ears of another and they accept my truth with care, I feel a release as I am able to relax around the burden and let go of the need to hold it safe.

At first glance, that’s not ever going to be anything except a dump of emotions and memories.

Patience, grasshopper. It takes time to do this well.

My technique involves merciless editing interspersed with periods of neglect. Often my poems begin with a rant.

This first edit involves cutting two or three words from each sentence (fewer if I can’t bear to cut the words) and putting what’s left, each on a single line.

At this point you might have something like this:

Burdens: An Accounting Saying yes when I mean no. Saying no when I mean yes. My burdens are my Precious.

curated collection of emotions held in place by justifications.

protected for many seasons.

set my burdens down by writing them. considering other ways to set these precious bundles down. reluctant to release them into the ether. I’ve carried them for so long. I’ve come to the conclusion

revealing in a witnessing way.

placing them into the hands of another, release their weight.

speaking them out loud. Recording my words

listening changes them inside of me.

sting of the words is released with my breath speaking a new language. I hear a different meaning. circle from my heart to my breath to my ears and back to my heart and there is a new interpretation.

speaking your truth brings it into reality in a way that writing isn’t able to do. When my burdens reach the ears

and they accept my truth with care, I feel a release

Most of the time I will set this aside to look at later.

Persevere. And don’t publish the poem because you think you’ve done enough. It’s not clean enough yet. (Of course, this is my opinion and you can do what you want with your own writing.)

When I return, I go through it again, editing mercilessly and correcting phrases that don’t make sense. I’ll add lines that come to me as I go and sometimes I end up going off in another direction.

If you don’t like it at this point, close the file and come back another day. I mean it. It’s not going to become anything interesting if you aren’t interested.

Take a break.

Have a look at this article that was curated in #Spirituality and #Creativity

Your Relationships Have An Energy Vibration — So Does Everything You Create.

“It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it.”

One thing that drives me mad is when I find a lot of repeated words. I hunt them down and replace them with synonyms that work. Sometimes that exercise sends me off in another direction.

I take out all the capitals and punctuation so I can move words around.

At this point in the process, I discovered the phrase: efference copy and begin to fit it into the poem.

“A motor signal from the central nervous system to the periphery is called an efference, and a copy of this signal is called an efference copy”. Wikepedia.org

I edit and sort, moving lines to the bottom if they don’t quite fit but I like them and hope they might go somewhere in the end. I also play a bit with a title.

Here‘s the next version.

An Accounting of The Burdens Carried

When I say yes when I really mean no, Or I saying no when I mean to say yes, my actions are born from an inner intention Each answer responds to a tentative question.

Conflicting positions Live in my mind

a collection of burdens are under my protection in a curated collection of emotions that preserve the well repeated story of considered justification a refuge of lies I tell myself.

I carry precious bundles in a dwindling reality through the seasons of my life

I set them down by writing and letting them release as their tentacles cling to the rocks at the ocean I am lost in my pondering and consider other ways reluctant to remove them to buy myself some peace.

I’ve come to the conclusion That revealing my judgment Is an outflowing signal Of an efference copy I repeat to myself

Reciting my story releases its weight. As the internal copy Converts to a message to listen on replay

softening the sting. Their powers disburse with each of my breaths I learn a new language. I hear a new meaning.

Words tumble in circles from my heart to my breath soft as a memory hearing their echo as new interpretation.

Speaking a truth brings reality

and they accept my truth with care, I feel a release

— — — -

are the precious bundles into the ether.

Almost there.

At this point, I start saying the words out loud, or I recite them in my mind, feeling the patterns, editing, or changing words that don’t fit.

Merciless editing.

Perseverance is key now. Nothing is sacred.

Here’s the (almost) final product.

I’m going to paste it into a new story, fix up the title, and add tags and a suitable image.

Hope you enjoyed the journey.

An Accounting of The Burdens Carried (Conflicting Positions Alive In My Mind) When I tell you yes when I really mean no, Or I tell you no when I mean to say yes, my actions are born from an inner intention.

Each answer responds to a tentative question.

Conflicting positions are alive in my mind a collection of burdens within my protection.

A curated collection preserve my emotions a justification in a refuge of lies.

I carry the bundles, a dwindling light in the seasons of life.

I set them on paper to let them release the tentacles clinging to the backs of my teeth.

I'm in a meander and ponder the trap reluctant to shed them to buy myself peace.

I’ve made the decision revealing my thoughts as an outflowing signal; an efference note, of a well-copied song that I sing to myself.

Reciting my story releases its weight. to listen on replay softens the sting.

Their powers disburse with each of my tunes I learn a new language. and soak up new words.

They tumble in circles from Heart to my Breath soft as a memory of speaking my truth.

While hearing their echo returns to the now while careful acceptance allows my release.

Thanks to Karen Madej for asking and for the inspiration. And Paul Myers MBA for your mention.

And to a bunch of writers who have expressed an interest in my work, love ya!

Dr. John Rose, Alison Tennent, Earnest Painter, B. A. Cumberlidge., Timothy Key, Desiree Driesenaar, Claire Michaeljohn, QuadConjures, Infiniti, Paroma Sen, Eli Snow, Daniel G. Clark, Eashan Reddy Kotha, Paroma Sen, Keno Ogbo, James G Brennan Uchechi Obasi, Timothy Key, Holly Jahangiri, Joe Luca, Charlotte Zobeir Ali, Kathryn A. LeRoy, Ph.D. Earnest Painter, Eeva Metssalu, Jennifer Geer, Amna Fiaz

Tag me @treelangdon or add a message to this post if you’d like to connect. I’m a‘Top Writer’ in Poetry on Medium. Find me on Twitter and Facebook.*