How I Write Poems

I Clarity

We start with the subject meeting object, via verb.
The man walked down the street.
So long as he walks down that street,
we have a place from which to start.
Let's set his toes alight.

II Imagery

Now that we've got clarity,
let's carry on with imagery.
How does the man walk down the street?
Like a clown on its way to a crisis centre?
Sharp-suited, with painted grin,
but haunted, hollow eyes?

What does the street look like?
I'm picturing a British one,
with concrete kerb
and attached housing,
disturbed at intervals by shops.
A newsagent's, perhaps, with cards
stuck in the grille, advertising
rooms and cars and massage services.

Describe and similise!
Metaphor like a good comparison.

III Style

This is your own affair,
but often I like to measure out
my syllables, keeping 10 and 10 a line,
or 8 and 8, or 6,
or sometimes even odd numbers.
I'm not Shakespeare,
but often I'll plump an iamb or two.
Ti-tum, ti-tum, ti-tum, ti-tum, ti-too.

Occasional rhymes usefully establish flow
without needing obsessive care.
And though "free verse" is what I know,
what free verse means is freedom from genre,
not style. You don't have to write a Sonnet,
but neither do your line breaks
need to be
compl
etely
a
rbitrary.

It's up to you. Did the man walk down street,
or did the man
walk down the street,
or did the man even
walk down
the street
like this?

IV Finished Product

The man walked down the street
like a king across his manicured courtyard.
The newsagent's was a Biblical den,
its window advertising new iniquities.

The pink and yellow cards were scrawled,
with scratches like a bream shoal hauled
abreast a varnished boat.
He saw one offering massage and,
thinking of his aching back,
plucked it as one would a fresh apple.

'Happy endings guaranteed'
it said. If the lad can fix the lead
that's breaking up my spine, he thought,
I'll end happy indeed.