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Poetry Writing Idea

The video below demonstrates one of many ideas for writing a poem. This technique first finds a source of inspiration (an ancient oak tree), then uses cards to capture phrases and words, which are then arranged to write the lines of the poem. The poem written in this example is King of the Woods, which can be read in full here.



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Blue Sky

Blue sky And clouds float by Looking up high I can see why They do fly Blue sky Mavis
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A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
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Breath

All round the world people are holding their breath Is it just an anomaly or are we in at the death? Our planet is hurting that we all can see Is this blip natural or caused by you and me? We have to trust scientists to tell us the truth You are our hope and you are our sleuth Do not ignore the cynics they’ll keep you on track Retest their theories, and find out what they lack Is it a sun spot that may cause the crash Or too much abuse, and things that we trash So tell us home truths, even things that we fear Especially those things we do not want to hear So all of the plastic we do not need to use All of our assets we need not abuse Will help just a little, we hope and we pray Seek a safe path, make some headway Let the whole world return to a safer course Let saving people be a founding force Be sure to travel just the trail that is true Lies come back to bite, like an old lover’s tattoo Let’s hope with every hope we’re not in at the death And slowly, slowly ..... release the world’s...
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Reverse Switches

A faraway thought Eclipse of the Mind Offset against time. Random rotations Of Flickering predictions And reverse switches. An unknown being Offering stability of presence Estimation of existence. A prequel to sanity Essence of age And drifting forecasts. An overhang of tempers Stabilising the vitality And residence of mind. Spectre of sensation Accessing the bleak And uncertain future. Trudge of uncertainty Against unresolved Conflicts of schedule. A fathom of thoughts And sideway glances Broadening beyond reasoning. Iain   
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After a Week Off

Sarah, new to the ward, senses a friend in Nurse Nicole as she sits at the end of the bed, eyes closed and dread of the operation lessens; she knows that all will be well as trust replaces fear. Some of the other nurses bitch she doesn't fill forms properly she only washes her own cup but Matron squashes their cattiness jealousy can run rampant unless quickly curtailed. The doctors are pleased she is back some appreciate their task will be easier as her soothing hands find the place that needs reminding it is part of the whole and is free to join in the healing. Karen
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A Missed Blow

Turn the knob down A gas light Beckons A grasped strength Within Clutching For approval. Survive I might A further night. Rachel   
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I'm off to Bury

I’m off to Bury’ she said. ‘Bury St Edmunds?’ I thought or did she mean to bury the dead. You/I coughed a little, but caught the sneeze passengers had come to dread, the virus of last resort. Clasping my hands either side of my face, I asked ‘Who has died?’ She looked aghast and replied ‘this isn’t the time, to joke about the crisis’. Covid in the UK locked down Divali and Eid, but Christmas survives. ‘I’m off to Bury’ she said. ‘Not to bury the dead, but to celebrate life’. Kevin
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Let Me Play

Children at play filled with innocence, Trees in the playground where they hide. Running, shouting no cares in the world, Waves of freedom flows higher than the tide. In that playground stands a child all alone, Fraught with sadness, with nobody to play. His dejection surges as his tears threaten, Just wishing a shrill of a whistle would end the day. Being so alone is a solitary game, Thoughts of “what have I done” The shrills and screams of play, Ending a game for those that won. Standing all alone playtime is long, Children running all unaware, He stands still alone, Envy and sadness, he stands just to stare. Sheridan
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Mirrored Silences

With mirrored silences amplifying the spaces in between. The lost thoughts Gathering the unfulfilled dreams. Anne
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Why Do the Sunflowers Smile?

                                                    Vincent van Gogh, 'Sunflowers' (1888) D o you have a secret? Are your serotonin levels so high? Absorbing yellow radiance, you seem powered direct from the sun. Bending benevolent heads you shower me with joy, with the abundance hoarded in your life-giving seed, stored up, it seems, for a future when heads hang heavy, sunlight recedes and winter has come again. Anon
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