A Chat with Elizabeth Crawford: Step-By-Step: How to Write a Poem When You're Blocked

My friends, I went through a period, late winter, when the grey skies had sent my Muse into hibernation. I could not have been less inspired! Our friend Elizabeth Crawford, who writes at Soul's Music,  offered me a step by step exercise in writing a poem and, as I followed the steps, it occurred to us that this info might be very handy for many of you, since we all have those times when the words won�t come.

I kept track of our emails and Elizabeth's step-by-step instructions, as we wanted to share them with you. You can keep these steps in mind next time the words are elusive. Let�s dive in!

Sherry:This chat began when Elizabeth left a cool comment on one of my Wild Woman poems: �Wild Woman calling to Wild Woman. I hear you and know this deep within me.�

I replied: Maybe it�s time for we wild women to write another poem in tandem? Though I am absolutely without inspiration at the moment�.any ideas?

Elizabeth: Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. Give me a bit of time to work it out. This could be fun.

(It wasn�t long before my email pinged. It was Elizabeth.) How about I walk you through a step by step process of building a poem? Giving you the steps one at a time, maybe three or four steps.

Sherry: This sounds intriguing, but daunting, at my end, as I am brain-dead at the moment. Let�s give it a go.

Elizabeth: First step is a stream of consciousness list. But you must make some preparation. Make sure you are in a place and time where you won�t be interrupted. Have clean paper and pen. Have some kind of timer near at hand and set it for five minutes. Sit down and relax. Breathe in through your nose, then slowly release it through your mouth as though you are blowing out a candle gently. Do that three times. It is a signal to  your subconscious that you are ready to begin.

I�m going to give you a word. Let it float through your mind and begin your list. One or two words, a short phrase, whatever comes into your head. Try to be specific. Use actual names of whatever you see or feel coming at you. People, places, feelings, things, animals�.whatever. Continue to write for as long as you can, but for no more than five minutes. No going back to look before you are finished. This is a stream of thoughts, associations, reflections, feelings, nothing more. No sentences, just a few words to remind you.

When I send you your word, I trust you not to peek before you are ready to do the exercise. Only then can you look at the word and begin.

Sherry: Kids, when the word came, I was careful to not let my eyes fall on it. I printed the page out and set it aside until I had time and space and energy to begin. Only then did I look at the page. It said:

Elizabeth: Now you are ready to begin. You will write whatever list of associations that occur when you read this one word. Don�t think. Just let yourself drift through all that comes into your head. Write words, phrases, etc. for no more than five minutes.

Sherry: Then I turned the page to look at the word. And it made me smile, because the word my friend and fellow wild woman gave me was:

Wild.

I did my breathing, checked the clock in front of me and began. This is what came, in the order they arrived:

Nature   Grandfather Cedar    the ocean�s roar   draped in old man�s beard

   Moss   wolfsong    seaspray   the call of the Raven     the howl of the wolf

Freedom   sunrise, sunset   the inner wild: unrest     midnight moon

Sorceress       feeling caged   incantation   earth, air, water, fire    
           resistance    Longing    where is the soul�s home?    Windsong   
                   take me to the forest        Lulled by the waves   
                            wild woman    the sky of mind

Kids, I was amazed. Since I was not inspired, not writing at all at that moment, that week, that month, I was impressed at how this process revealed itself to be so productive. This is when I began to think, if an actual poem resulted from this exercise, we would bring it to you in a chat to help you through your own thorny moments.

Sherry: Okay, my friend. I finally had time to look at the word � what a perfect word for me! � and I wrote my list of associations. In four minutes, I came to a stop. What is the next step?

Elizabeth: Another word, of course. And the same process repeated with the second word. Glad you enjoyed it and am looking forward to the next steps. I will send the word separately, so you can do it at your own convenience. Okay?

I dutifully printed off the second word, eyes averted, and set it aside till I had some time.  Sooner than I was ready, my eye happened to catch it as I was sorting some papers, rats! So I stopped and prepared to gather my words.

Elizabeth: Sherry, here is the second word. Follow the same instructions that you used for the first word. Just jot down impressions, associations, memories, images, colors, feelings�..

The second word is: woman.

Sherry: I cracked up! So I stopped and did my five minutes of word-gathering. Along trotted the words. I dutifully wrote them down. Not inspired. Just whatever came:

Archetypal    moon goddess    forest nymph    an ancient knowing

Pulled by the tides      in love with the moon         friend of wolves   

       sings to the trees        inner wisdom     the path of heart  
 lover of the sky         converses with birds         a sense of wonder      
      intuitive    communes with wild creatures      lover of the wild     

                           seeker: finder of what was sought

Then I emailed Elizabeth: What is the next step? (This is cool!)

Elizabeth: Next Step: Take each of your lists created from the words and study them. Choose three to five from each list that best illustrate your personal sense of the word itself. Sense imagery is best, what we can touch, feel, taste and smell. But don�t eliminate something that you respond to strongly because it doesn�t seem like sense imagery. This is your poem, your words, thoughts and ideas. Choose items from both lists that best express that reality. 

We�re three quarters of the way through, kiddo.

Sherry: I went back and looked at my lists. I took those words and phrases that spoke to me most strongly, and listed them on a separate page from top to bottom, with lots of space around each. Then I emailed Elizabeth.

All righty! I�ve picked my phrases � ready for the next step.

Elizabeth:The next step is the first line of the poem�..using the two words. Your first line is:

This poem is a wild woman�

And, yes, it may take the boomerang form, or go wherever you wish, using some or all of those items you got from your list.  Above all�have fun.

p.s. While structuring this I, of course, started hearing whispers of a poem. I�ve blocked it out, as I want to see what you come up with first.

Sherry:Maybe you should write yours before you read mine, and see what we each come up with?

Elizabeth: Will do. The few lines floating around in my head were interesting but not nearly wild enough, if you know what I mean.

Glad you are liking the process. When you use it regularly, I find that the process becomes almost automatic. I�d just let my mind roam through the words of a prompt and most often a first line would emerge. Sometimes I had to sleep on it, or go off and do something else for a few hours. Then I could sit down and find the basics for a poem that I can play with.

That is what happens when I do the wordles. Some of the words set me to stillness, just listening, and images, memories, and feelings arise and I am off. Most often, the rest of the words seem to find a place inside whatever formed from those first one or two words. I�ll let you know when I settle in to write it. This is fun!

Sherry: So I applied myself to my list. What emerged on the page, bare bones, looked like this with my chosen words:

This poem is a wild woman

The inner wild: unrest, away from the wild places

The call of the Raven

The howl of a wolf

Where is the soul�s home?

She chants an incantation:
earth, air, water, fire
sorceress of the midnight moon

Wild woman---the sky of mind

From the second list:

An ancient knowing

Sings to the trees

Communes with wild creatures

A lover of the wild

Wild woman has always been a seeker,

Hoping to become

A finder of what was sought

Now it was time to go into Word and get serious. I didn�t have to work very hard before the poem was complete. This emerged after only a few minutes of trying, discarding and substituting repeated words.

This Poem

This poem is a wild woman,
knocking down invisible inner walls,
the better to observe the sky of mind.
This poem is agitated,
the inner wild a climate of unrest
when too far away from the untamed places.
Attuned to the call of the Raven,
the howl of the wolf,
this town full of monster trucks and logging rigs
assaults her senses, she feeling
as alien as a cougar
inexplicably materializing
on a sidewalk in the middle
of this grey little industry town.

Where is her soul�s home?
Deep, deep, in the wild places
where only the creatures live.
Sorceress of the midnight moon,
follower of the shaman�s path,
she drums a primal beat
that speaks �Home! Home!�
with a stick carved from her breastbone,
chants incantations to earth, air, water, fire,
prays her spirit guides will lead her well,
back to the ocean�s roar and the forest�s
sacred, hidden trails.

While waiting, Wild Woman
makes her escape in a poem:
sings to the trees, communes 
with restless spirits, ululates with owls,
flies up and away over the mountain pass
every morning, every eventide,
to where the wild things are,
always and forever, forever and always,
a lover of rainforest and ocean-song,
she knows where she belongs.

Confined, her spirit finds no rest
away from her soul�s home.

Wild Woman restlessly circles and turns,
within the inner landscape,
like a too-large dog circling a too-small bed,
trying to make what does not fit, fit,
too tight the wrappings that keep her 
from flying free,
for she has always been a seeker,
now hoping to find, one last time,
what has for so long been sought.

copyright Sherry Marr March 2016

Thank you, Elizabeth, for this poem, which would not exist without your midwifery. Now let�s hear yours.

This Poem

This poem is a wild woman

clawing her way up and out

of domesticated darkness

that ensnared her for years.

This poem is a hermit, points

its nose at the moon, croons

an ancient tune that celebrates

their shared aloneness.

This poem is a gray and black badger,

swift to defend her inmost den

with a snarl whenever, wherever

it is threatened.

This poem colors its world

with odd hues from Purple to Carmine

Red, that are not supposed to blend,

but then somehow do.

This poem is magic, dances

with delight at its own ability

to breathe and celebrate

yet another solitary moment.

This poem is a lover, as well as a mother,

prowling deserted beaches and wilderness

paths, sniffing out any who might

be in need of her wild word wisdom.

This poem is a seemingly capricious

wind, where an eagle screams

and a hawk stalks its prey

from constantly swirling currents.

This poem is a tree, rooted

in rocky soil, willing to bend

extend its branches to sun

and further nurture.

This poem knows sorrow,

cries for beautiful wild world

being destroyed by human

greed and indifference.

This poem knows it could be

many things. Also knows it

will always be, yet another poem

in the making�

Elizabeth Crawford  3/21/2016

  

Sherry: Oh, my goodness, Elizabeth! "This Poem" is spectacular! I adore every single word! "This poem knows sorrow, cries for beautiful wild world...." Oh, yes, it does.

As we can see, my poet friends, this process absolutely works. We are excited to share this with you, in hopes it may spark some poems when you need a little nudge. Thank you, Elizabeth, for sharing your wisdom and techniques, for the love of poetry. You are a wonder.

Wow. When two wild women get together, stuff happens! LOL. Do come back and see what we get up to next. You never know who you�ll find in here of a Monday. Who knows? It might be you!