How to Refine a Poem: Step-by-Step Real Edits
- A chapter from How To Write Evocative Poetry -
In this post I share the progress that some of my poems took to reach their final form. I will share with you how they originally formed, as well as some of the changes that they went through along the way, finishing with the final form of the poem that I settled on.
When reading, look for changes of phrases, grammar, symbolism, as well as the through lines that last form beginning to end. Note the title choices as well as how each poem is laid out on the page. Ideally, by the end of this section you will realise that all poetry takes time to write, craft, edit, and present, and rarely, if ever, come out perfectly formed off the top of your head.
A Moment That Will Never Come
Attempt 1:
It feels like
I’ve been preparing
My entire life
For a moment that will never comeMy body is tense
My mind is sharp
Yet I have nothing to do
With such focusThere is no enemy to fight
No emergency to survive
No monumental struggle to overcome
Nothing other than this day
And the next and the one after thatWhat glory is there to be found
In the daily grind?How can I be proud of defeating
The mere anxiety of surviving the moment?Attempt 2:
I crave catastrophe
And ache for the apocalypseNot as a nihilist
But as a person without purposeThere’s little joy to be found in a job
Creating just to consumeProducing just to procreate
Done daily until deathI am man without meaning
Readying myself for revelationWhen survival isn’t assured life is serious
The useless artefacts will fall awayWhat actually matters will materialise
Focus will be forced towards functionalityDistracting decadences will be discarded
Leaving nothing but the struggle of lifePerhaps then I’ll find real purpose
Maybe existence will feel equanimous
Attempt 3:
How privileged
Am I
To lament
The ease of my lifeI am blessed
To have never seen war
Or sufferingI am blessed
Yet that blessing
Feels like a curse of meaningWithout an enemy to fight
Without an obstacle to overcome
All this feels dulled
Life feels like a shadow
A mockery of everything I was promisedThus I create my own demons
Faceless oppressors
That cannot be seen
Or overcomeThen I cry about my problems
Like they actually exist
Writing angsty poems
From a place of privilege
Final Form:
As a child
I learnt
VigilanceTo survive
I slept light
A knife under my pillow
Waiting for an attackThat attack never came
But I still sleep light
And have made my body into a weaponI am still vigilant
Waiting for the attack
That will never come
The Cave
Attempt 1:
I wish
I could put aside
My fear
For long enough
To see
To feel
To know
That I am safeAttempt 2:
I can’t enjoy
The moment
Because
I fear
A future
That will only
Come
Because my fear
Will stop me from
Doing what is neededTo
prevent it
From occurringAttempt 3:
I cannot
EscapeThe echo
Of the words
You never saidI still feel
The ripple
Of the rocks
You dropped
So very long agoAttempt 4:
My mind
Built itself
A cave
To escape the painA silent echo
Reverberates against
The walls
Of my
Inner caveA place
False solitude
Overlooking
A lake of liesThe ripple
Of the rocks
You dropped
So long ago
Are still moving
Towards the shoreEven so
To this day
When I am afraid
I hide in that caveUnfortunately
It’s no longer a place
Of safety…But that cave
Is not what it
Once was…And then you left
First from my life
And then earth…You never really interacted with me much
So
Formal
So distant
And cold…I still remember
When I was young
You yelled at me once
I built a cave
Inside my mind
It overlooked a serene lakeA place to
To escape the pain
To escape
YouFinal Form:
Once
When I was a young boy
You yelled at meObjectively
It wasn’t much
But it was enoughThat night
I built a cave
Inside my mind
One that overlooked
A lake
Whose water
Perfectly reflected
The beauty
Of the nature
That surrounded itThe cave was secret
And strong
And safeThe lake was still
And soft
And sereneI quickly learnt
To hide in that cave
And to gaze upon the water of the lake
Loosing myself
In the reflection
Of a false reality
Made real
By fearYou never yelled at me again
In fact
We never really spoke
At least
Not about anything that matteredAs you pulled away from me
I found solace
Sitting in the cave
Whose creation you inspiredI’d look at the lake
Wishing
You’d appear
Wishing you would
Say
‘Son, won’t you come swim with me?’But you never came
Later
When I left home
You didn’t fight for me
You didn’t speak or even acknowledge
My absenceBut you did leave a mark on my mind
That cave
Is now haunted
By the silent screams
Of the words
You left unsaidAnd that lake
Still has ripples
From the rocks
We never thew
TogetherThe beauty of nature is obscured
By your indifferenceAnd
I no longer
Have anywhere safe
To hide
For As Long As I Have Eyes
Unedited Free Writing Session Notes:
00’16’’24
Stop trying to write.
No one cares about the latest thought to roll through your head.
About as useful as a tumble weed….
Look at you crafting a narrative
‘Oh what Divine skill you have,Oh
what praise you shall receive.’Bah!
The next thought will be better.
The next thought will suffice.
‘Don’t look back, only darkness lies beneath.’
Boom. Impactful. A French kiss to your brilliance good sir.
You have enlightened me.
No further instruction needed.
You think you’re the Messiah?
What about your father, and the man before him?
What about me?Don’t pull back son.
Where would you flee to anyway?
There is no place that is not me.
I am with you always, and in all ways. Even in your doubts of me.
Don’t you see? I was that rhyme and the appreciation of it, and the thing appreciating it.00’16’’24
Sixteen seconds of silence is all it took,
For you,
To find me.
Now edit this poem,
Clearly it needs some work ;)02’58’’79
It’s not fair for you to be mad at me for not teaching you how to be an artist.
It’s a discovery.
It’s pain.
It’s a journey towards creating your own unique style.
Not to fit a certain look, but because that is the only way you will be able to express yourself.
Don’t turn to me for lessons, how could I possibly know you more than you know yourself?
How could I possibly hope to help you express?
You could have seen me.
You could have loved me.
You could have known me.
But all you could see is yourself reflected back by my forced smile.
Given in the same way as it was taken. Interrupted. Confused. Alone.
I dream of flowing lines.
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas. Dripped into life.
Pulled forth from my mind. The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment, captured for eternity. Or at lea
st as long as I have eyes to see what I’ve made.
But that vision is a just as much of a lie as these words upon a page.
For they never were written, merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogue problem.
I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds, none his own, none his home, none he wants to return to, none he wants to live through.
I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance. A way to persist. To function.But to what end?
The answer comes, calling out ‘Daddy let me show you something!’Final Form:
I dream of flowing lines,
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas,
Dripped into life,
Pulled forth from my mind,
The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment
Captured for eternity,
Or at least for as long as I have eyes
To see what I’ve made.But that vision
Is a just as much of a lie
As these words upon a page.
For they never were written,
Merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogy problem.I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds,
None his own,
None his home,
None he wants to return to,
None he wants to live through.I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance.
A way to persist.
A way to function.But to what end?
The answer comes
Calling out,
‘Daddy let me show you something!’
This chapter is from the book How To Write Evocative Poetry
