Photo by Diana Ewell Engel of Nancy McMillan Ewell’s sculpture of her hand
The Heartbeat of Place
How can we transport our readers into the experience of a unique place?
The details, images—the sizzle and smell of garlic in a cast iron skillet; a red bellied woodpecker that looks like a miniature silkscreen painting as it pecks at suet in a metal cage; a friend or family member skipping, singing or bringing in groceries; our sudden connections to memories—make our writing come alive.
Find the heartbeat of your poem. Begin with a free-write to give free reign to your creative process, to discover where your poem wants to go.
Writing about place should lead you to a heartbeat, either yours or someone else’s.
During this holiday season, my family is enduring a heartbreaking loss. My mother, age 85, died unexpectedly in her sleep. We are grieving, missing her. We stayed in her house over Thanksgiving weekend. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. An artist and collector of unique pieces, she stamped her home with her personality. As a nature lover, she placed bird nests, arrowheads and shark’s teeth in her sunroom.
I was inspired by her house and yard. Beginning with this setting in my free-write led me to write about my mother. Her adventurous spirit became the heartbeat of my poem.
Below is my work in progress, “Look in the Trees.” Notice the several settings—the places I describe—and how they serve as anchors for the subject of my poem, which is my mother.
Photo by Elizabeth Ewell Crockett of Nancy McMillan Ewell
Look in the Trees Revision 2 in memory of my mother, Nancy Jean McMillan Ewell From your living room,/ now quiet, / I see blood-red flags of plum / and an oak, stripped of leaves, / announcing winter / in your backyard. / The far sky cradles/ a blue haze of the Smokies / where you roamed / during summer camp days— / no brothers to babysit or tomatoes to weed—/ That time was about me./ A Girl Scout Pioneer alongside your best friend, Joan, / you trudged through baking sun and cooler shadows, / ten miles each day from Newfound Gap to Davenport,/ cut a whispering path / around a napping rattler,/ banged pot lids when a bear, smelling burnt pudding,/ lumbered into camp./ The mountains / claimed your heart, / overtook it like kudzu. / Likewise, the trees / on Riverside Drive, / beckoned. / You flew, squirrel-like,/ from apple to pear / in Aunt Nellie’s orchard,/ inhaling ripening fruit,/ sifting ovals of morning light./ From your sunroom sill,/ I lift chiseled points/ you hunted, rub the rough,/ as you did, between my fingers. / Nature imprinted your mind/ like leaves we dipped into red fingerpaint / forming trees on butcher paper / at school./ I never thought of myself as an artist, / you said, and yet, / you translated the kaleidoscopic tapestry of childhood haunts / into a sculpture of your hand, / blooming collages of shells and glass, / a watercolor of the ocean / for your sister suffering though cancer, / the prayer from Psalm 121/ riding indigo and rose / waves into light. / The treehouse you built for us / became a place to dream:/ I would lie on the pine floor, / gaze up, at the space/ between the leaves, / wonder how I could grow into it. / You answered / with Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, / Dickens’s complete works, / framed oils and watercolors, / gifts that grew me skyward. / Nature and art / were God’s calling cards/ you opened your hands/ to receive. / -Diana Ewell Engel
Photo by Doug Ewell of Nancy McMillan Ewell holding a copy of the ocean watercolor she painted for her sister Carol
Place and Finding the Pulse of Your Writing
The holidays are a time for remembering. We think of those we have loved and have lost, the shared memories we claim as friends and families. Writing is cathartic as we grieve those we miss, and serves as a way to relive precious memories. Writing can also help us work through experiences which have wounded us.
Besides free-writing, there are other tools to help us gather ideas and express our thoughts. Photos can unlock our writing process. I took many pictures during Thanksgiving weekend. Once back home, I began to carefully look at the photos of my mother’s house and yard. I seized upon a picture of a plum and towering oak visible from her living room window.
I wanted this poem to capture the quiet and somber mood of her house and yard now that she is gone, and winter has arrived.
When I begin my poem in my mother’s living room, I create a vantage point from which to write.
As I developed this poem, other significant places in my mother’s life began to enter—summer camp, her childhood home on Riverside Drive, the treehouse she built for me and my siblings. Writing about the treehouse led me to remember what that space meant to me and how her gifts of books and art helped me grow into a poet.
One of the joys of the writing process is self-discovery. Writing can lead to a surprise, a connected branching path: This poem was to be an ode, that is a poem of praise, laser-focused on my mother as an adventurer. However, I found myself remembering what it was like to be in the treehouse, and so, I included my experience in my poem.
The poem you write should surprise you and your reader.
If free-writing is not helping and you have a subject you want to explore, try talking it out with a friend or family member. You may be surprised with the images and strong lines that come out of your mouth! Talking helps us gain clarity and realize new ideas. Record your conversation or take the time to scribble/type what you say as well as what your friend may suggest.
Photo by Diana Ewell Engel of the plum and oak just behind it in my mother’s backyard. The Smokies are a thin layer of blue in the far distance.
Metaphors and Similes
Poems turn on images that compare things; this kind of figurative language gives readers an original way of seeing and experiencing the world. Metaphors and similes are what make poems poems instead of pure description or narrative. You may remember learning in school that metaphors are direct comparisons whereas similes use the word “like” or “as.”
“Look in the Trees” contains such figurative language. In the first stanza, the plum’s “blood-red flags” are its leaves. The color and shape of the leaves and my mother’s death coupled with the upcoming Christmas holiday brought this metaphor to mind. In the eighth stanza, I am expressing the light, color, and texture that I saw in Mom’s art when I use the image, “kaleidoscopic tapestry” of childhood haunts. I close my poem with “God’s calling cards.” This metaphor came to mind as I thought about how nature and art “called” to my mother.
As to similes, my poem features a few. If you live in the South, you know the spectacle of kudzu, an invasive vine which takes over entire lots. In fact, a field I passed on the way to Mother’s previous house was a kudzu jungle ; ). The fourth stanza compares the hold the mountains had over her to the way kudzu would claim a plot of earth, “overtook it like kudzu.” There’s another simile from my school days further down in my poem: Look for how nature imprinted my mother’s mind.
When you write verse, keep figurative language top of mind. Train yourself to think comparatively as you look at the world. Metaphors and similes provide original, layered meanings to the objects and experiences of your poem and so make your writing a richer journey for your reader. Seeing the world in this manner may also intensify your experience and, in so doing, lead you to joy.
To Recap:
* No right or wrong way to begin the creative writing process!
* Free-writing, writing from photos or art, and talking out your ideas are useful tools.
* Images rule in poetry, especially figurative language such as metaphors and similes.
* Allow your mind to write what it wants, follow your intuition!
* Enjoy the writing journey, knowing that it will lead to discovery and surprise.
Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash
Di, This is inspired and powerful. What a legacy she left you - the importance of dreaming, creativity, artistry and seeing and valuing "God's calling cards.' This is a beautiful tribute to her.
Di, this is your most powerful post so far. In particular, I liked your use of both kudzu and the squirrel as similes to describe aspects of your mother's vigorous spirit, which the picture also captures. Take care and have a Merry Christmas!