One of the things that makes a poem, and any piece of writing, come alive is the use of specific details. Often my students will write in generalities, my dog, my car, my room. Once we’ve been writing together for a while I try to teach them to go a bit deeper with their poems and use the specific details that will show me the difference between a German Shepherd and a Poodle, between a puddle of water and the ocean, between a beat up old Chevy Impala and a shiny new Lexus just driven off the showroom floor.
It’s easiest to start with something you know well and I like to do this exercise with both a place and event. Today let’s focus on a place. For kids I usually suggest their room but they’re free to pick anywhere they want – grandma’s kitchen, church, their best friend’s basement. And then I ask them to make a list of everything they can remember about that one place, including at least one line for each of their senses. As you might tell by now I start a lot of poems with a list because while writing a poem might feel hard, making a list is usually pretty easy. Some people call it brainstorming but I usually get confused when I look at those mind maps with words going off in all sorts of different directions. A list feels orderly and yet it can still be all over the place.
So first I suggest a list of at least 10 things they remember about the place and I encourage them to use sensory details. And sometimes it’s easy to go back to the “I remember” prompt and just start the list like that. Then they can build the poem.
Here’s my brainstorm of being in my library here at home:
Some of the books are old and have that wonderful old musty book smell
It’s dusty and the windows are dirty and I don’t care
The clerestory windows let in tons of light
the picture window lets me see the lush garden
It feels like a safe place to breathe
Even with windows closed, I can hear the birds chirping
the dog is snoring,
my computer humming
A cobweb is hanging off the ceiling fan, a few more on some of the top bookcases
I’m sipping cinnamon tea
The dog is chasing something in her dreams, legs are running
I’m feeling tempted to go rearrange books
I’ve got a stack of poetry books next to me on the floor
I don’t have room on the shelves for any more books
I need get rid of some books but I don’t want to let any of them go
the room feels like a hug from an old friend when you walk into it
And here is a rough trio of haiku from the brainstorm. Alas, not many specific details but then that’s what revision is for. 🙂
ordinary day
surrounded by dusty books
gratitude fills me
gratitude fills me
snoring dog chases squirrels
birds sing songs of spring
birds sing songs of spring
calling, come outside, breathe
this is the real work
Your turn.
THE MIRACLE
A more disastrous day
I have never experienced
We stepped into the car
Things quickly went downhill
First put car in drive
Except reverse
is what was needed
The short journey begins
Through the colourbond gates
Next came the Christmas bush
Now completely air born
Holding on for dear life
Through the back fence
Then the crumbling brick wall
The noise was deafening
Life flashed before my eyes
Could feel the presence
Of my guardian angels
Instinctively knew
all would be fine
As my now totally destroyed car
Back wheels caught by cement wall
We miraculously walked away
Without so much as a scratch
A mother’s worst fear
That I almost killed
My precious son
A miracle occurred that day
That is my true belief
– Anne McKenna
Oh Ann, What a scary, scary event. This must have been very difficult for you to write but I hope it was helpful to you too.
Are you up for tackling a revision on this one? If so, I’ll send you a note over on FB
You did a great job recounting the events. I’d love to see you strengthen it even more, make us ache in our heart for you and your son.
Yeah that would be good I know in my heart there is not as much detail and emotion as there could be so any suggestions would be good thanks
Anne,
You don’t get to the heart of a poem like this in a couple of writing sessions. It’s too painful and it’s like stabbing yourself in the heart, over and over again. What you do is attack it in layers.
I commend you for even going back to revisit a painful day such as this.
I’ll send you a longer note in a bit.
Susan
THE MIRACLE
First put car in drive
Except reverse
is what was needed
I recall the day distinctly
My ten year old son and I
were arguing, about what!
seems insignificant now
The longest journey of my life
Through the colourbond gates
The Christmas bush lush and green,
It was as if the car took flight
Holding on for dear life
Through the back fence
Then the crumbling brick wall
The noise was thunderous
An avalanche of bricks
Like no other, my son screaming
Mum, mum, mum over and over
I could not help him, my heart ached
I could feel the presence
Of my guardian angels
Shielding us from harm
While thinking, I am not ready to die
At the same time accepting my fate
A strange sense of peace engulfed me
Back wheels caught by cement wall
We miraculously walked away
Without so much as a scratch
Hands shaking, tears flowing
A mother’s worst fear
That I almost killed
My precious son
A miracle occurred that day
That is my true belief
Even my glasses remained in tact
on the top of a mountain of rubble.
My son like a scared kitten
Ran back inside, cowered under his bed
would not be coaxed out, too scared
This memory will be etched in our minds forever
– Anne McKenna
Oh Anne, well done indeed! This is a much richer poem now, more vivid and I feel your pain even more than before.
How do you feel about the poem now? Does one feel better or more true to you than the other?
This on definitely much stronger, I can see the importance of setting the actual seen to give a more vivid image
Thank you
That would be scene 🙂
I figured you meant scene and not seen. 🙂 I’m glad you could see the difference too.