For better or worse, poetry carries a certain mystique. This can feel flattering at times – those “oohs” and “ahhs” of intrigue when you tell someone you write poetry – but its status as an odd duck can make the discipline feel somewhat inaccessible to budding writers, new readers and general lovers of art, story and culture.

People are scared to touch poetry because they don’t want to look or feel silly. But why is a poem sillier than a screenplay, a standup routine, or a work of fiction? To be clear: I think all of these things hold potential for silliness, and silly is great. Most people enjoy poetry in some fashion – though it’s often made more palatable through song, film and other forms. I feel strongly that everyone has at least one poem in them. (I can’t speak to its quality, but I believe it’s in there!)

August is Poetry Month in so-called Australia. Our friends at Red Room have a chock-a-block calendar of cool stuff, and a handy list of 31 ways to get poetic this month.

To commemorate Poetry Month, I’ve put together a guide for people who want to try poetry, or who are writing poetry and don’t know what to do next. I reached out to a variety of working poets, teachers and editors, asking for their best advice for aspiring and emerging poets. Together with my own advice, here’s the consensus.

How to inspire poetry

Read widely, wildly and weirdly

Reading was by far the most common and essential piece of wisdom I received from established poets. Not sure where to begin? Start here:

1. Read across all genres and styles, not just poetry. Everything you read will hone your craft – yes, even texts that are pulpy, commercial or non-‘literary’.

2. Slip some poems into your regular reading schedule. You’ve probably got enough protein in your diet – now you gotta get that recommended daily intake of poems! You can start anywhere, and you should read ideally poetry from all over the world (including in translation). Ask other people for recommendations. Strike up a convo with a bookseller or librarian. Borrow a text you don’t recognise or can’t explain.

3. You can’t read everything. Poets at any career stage are often plagued with a sense of inferiority or FOMO at what they haven’t read (particularly if they’re not well-versed in the classics). But as Andy Jackson says, “Follow your gut. What rivets you, embraces you, unsettles you, seduces you? What do you wish you’d written? What irritates you? You have to build your own idiosyncratic canon of influences. Filter them through your own body and you’ll find you can surprise yourself.”

4. Don’t be afraid of other people’s poetry influencing yours. It will. Of course, be wary to avoid plagiarism, and credit other poets appropriately when directly lifting inspiration from a particular technique, quote or idea, but don’t avoid reading in the fear that it’ll dilute your style. If anything, reading poetry that excites you will energise your own writing. Also, it’s normal to envy other people’s work. Use that envy as creative fuel. Set it alight.

5. Don’t overthink a poem you’re reading. Simply take it in. In the wise words of Joel M. Toledo: “Read the lines before reading between the lines. Studying the way poets play around with figures of speech, utterances, linguistic devices, etc. will lead to better appreciation and critique of form and substance in poetry. The proverbial notion of reading between the lines often only leads to an elaborate guessing game on a poem’s meaning, which not only makes new readers daunted by poetry but is also fundamentally averse to the labour of learning poetic craft.”

6. Engage critically – read and write reviews, have conversations about what you do and don’t like, and try to understand why and how a poem is (or isn’t) working for you.

7. Nerd out. Find educational books and articles about writing and poetics, such as The Craft: A Guide to Making Poetry Happen in the 21st Century (ed. Rishi Dastidar), Thirteen Ways of Looking for a Poem: A Guide to Writing Poetry (Wendy Bishop) and The Making of a Poem: Eleven Australian poets talk about their craft (ed. Rosanna McGlone). There are lots of resources out there, including step-by-step instructions for poetic structures. Rabbit often includes a series of homework pages exploring different techniques in their anthologies, ready to be ripped out for your reference. Read interviews of writers talking about their process – such as Kill Your Darlings’ ‘What I Wish I’d Known About Poetry’ column – and in turn, find processes that sustain you. Focus on the love and challenge of writing, not on desired publishing outcomes.

Look for inspiration everywhere

Panda Wong says: “Poetry is at its best when it draws from all facets of life!”

Creative potential is everywhere. Try some of these techniques to tap into it:

1. Keep a diary, and carry a notebook everywhere you go.

2. Record your dreams. Suck out their marrow.

3. Mindfully listen and observe. Poetry is all around us.

4. Feed your creative practice with different artforms – of different styles, movements, places and periods.

5. Attune yourself to nature, people and rhythms. Stay curious. “I recommend eavesdropping,” says Jennifer Compton. “Listen in on trains, at parties, at cafes, in class, etc. Listen to what people are talking about, what they care about. Pay attention to the rhythm of their vernacular. Note how they express themselves. You will find that it is all already poetry – you just have to decide which bits you will transcribe and polish up. Add yourself to the conversation. If you want to.”

6. Seek out educational and mentoring opportunities. You do not need a particular education level to write poetry, and there are free-to-low-cost workshops, webinars and writing groups around. Try Express Media for young writers, state-based literary organisations like Writers Victoria and Writers SA, peak bodies like Red Room Poetry and Australian Poetry, and community-run initiatives like Uplift Poetry. Go to your local library’s noticeboard.

How to write poetry

I’m not exactly going to tell you how to write a poem, sorry! Part of the fun is figuring it out yourself, and it can happen differently every time. That said, here are some tips that’ll hopefully demystify the practice, and give you some ways to crack into it.

Turn inspiration into creation

1. Don’t use generative AI. Duh. “As a writer, what you have that no one else has is your voice, your lived experience, your unique intelligence,” says Tricia Dearborn. “Don’t give that precious shit up for ‘ease’ or speed.”

2. Likewise, be wary of social media’s impact on your creativity. “Avoid social media, and don’t cheapen yourself or your work by posting there,” warns Jeanine Leane. “It’s where good poetry and inspiration goes to die.”

3. Meander, literally and figuratively. “Go into your writing without needing to know where you are heading,” says Pascalle Burton. “Remove expectations, open your eyes to the unobvious, trust that something insightful can materialise without forcing, and do it often enough so the routine of writing can transform into something that surprises you.”

4. Take creative risks. Write poems that only you can write. “A poet who is willing to fail is worth a thousand poets who succeed just so,” says Tim Loveday. “Take on everything. Be hungry and steal a little from every plate.”

5. Zoom in and out of perspectives and senses. “Feel the materiality of language,” says Benjamin Laird. “From spoken word to digital, documentary to concrete, centuries-old to contemporary. With these experiences, you’ll expand your ways of thinking and writing. But when you write, don’t feel bound to any of those forms.”

6. Carve out time and space to develop your craft. “Writing poems doesn’t come from some abstract sense of a muse,” says Hellai Gul. “It comes from actually putting in the work.”

7. Dismantle the idea that poetry is only for a particular type of person. “You don’t need to conform to a standard or write what you think a poem should be,” says Rae White. “Create your own poetic forms and express your own truths that aren’t mimicking a cis-het white male perspective.”

8. Be patient. Coax your poem like a timid animal. “Don’t rush a poem,” says Felicity Plunkett. “They take time, and often reveal more possibilities as you spend time with them.”

Edit your own work

Some poets famously – well, famously in poet terms – don’t edit their work, but I’d hazard a guess and say most of us should. If you’ve drafted a poem, here are some tips that may enhance your work:

1. Once you’ve got a first draft, make a new version every time you want to tinker with it. This way, you can play freely without fear of losing or ‘ruining’ your previous work. It’s okay, and good actually, if you make hundreds of versions. I learned this in a workshop run by Ella Jeffery – it sounds simple, but it has really helped me breathe new life into work that I was otherwise blocked on. Give yourself permission to pull your poem apart and poke around in there.

2. Read your work out loud to yourself, and to others. Often, you’ll be able to hear or sense which parts might not be working as you want them to.

3. Play with your formatting, punctuation, vocabulary and page layout. Interrogate your creative decisions. Does everything have a purpose (no matter how nebulous or personal)? Are the forms and meanings coalescing or contradicting – and how do you want them to be interacting? Find the right frequency.

4. Zoom in. Comb through every choice of word: are they all pulling their weight?

5. “Think about the line(s) you use: are they sentences or not? Why, where do you break them?” asks Michael Farrell. “Look at others’ lines, read about the history of lines and enjambment – and of sentences. Are yours distinct, or are they generic? Are they dynamic, or flat?”

How to publish poetry

Submit your poems wisely

1. Find values-aligned publications that you’d be proud to have your work in. See Writers SA’s list of literary publications operating in so-called Australia. Ideally, try to submit to publications that will pay for your work, even if it’s only a small fee. Creative work is work.

2. Quality over quantity: be discerning about where to submit a poem. Aim to give your work a good home. Please don’t spam your poems anywhere and everywhere without care for relevant submission guidelines, the publication’s legitimacy/ethos or the masthead’s time and effort. On the flip side, don’t get stuck in decision paralysis, or tie yourself in knots trying to write something that aligns to a specific theme or editor’s tastes. Your work will either get selected or it won’t, and either is fine. “Don’t sit there thinking you are not a ‘proper’ poet,” says Caitlin Maling. “Don’t wait until work is perfect – it never will be. Only by sending out your work will you get a sense of what resonates with editors and audiences and you can feed this back into your practice.”

3. Read before you submit. “Never submit to a journal if you haven’t read at least three poems they’ve recently published,” says Dženana Vucic.

4. Get organised. Set calendar reminders for callouts and opportunities, and sign up to e-newsletters from publications, festivals and writing orgs to get in the know.

5. Likewise, make a submission tracker – a simple spreadsheet or list – so you can record where you’ve submitted a poem, when to expect an outcome, and if simultaneous submissions are allowed. This will help you avoid snafus, and will also let you recognise your progress.

6. Only you know when your poem is ‘done’ – and is it ever truly ‘done’? – but feel free to continue tinkering submitted/published poems, if you need to. If you’re getting lots of ‘no’s on a particular piece, reflect on its lifecycle so far. Have you been submitting to publications or editors that don’t match its vibe, or does it just need more work? As a general rule, if I’ve submitted a poem to about five vibe-aligned publications with no bites so far, I’ll revisit the poem with fresh eyes and diagnose areas for improvement.

7. If the right outlet for your work doesn’t yet exist, consider creating it yourself – whether as a zine, on a personal website, or by launching a new publication of your own.

Acquaint yourself with failure

1. Understand rejection as a part of your arts practice. If you submit your work for publication, accept that rejection is a possible outcome, and build in time to care for yourself accordingly. Tend to the emotions, ask for validation from your supporters, and learn what helps you manage rejection.

2. Avoid making assumptions about the reason for the rejection. Unless you receive specific feedback, you’ll probably never know if it was a hard no, or a just-missed-out. Try to treat the rejection as neutral information, not a value judgement.

3. Be not spooked – keep writing. As Samuel Beckett wrote, “Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” (I did not interview him for this article.)

4. Take breaks from submitting your poetry if you’re not feeling particularly robust. Don’t invite feedback if you’re not in a place to receive it. Keep chipping away at your work privately, but allow some breathing room to build resilience. Resubmitting when you’re feeling too sensitive can feel like poking a raw nerve.

5. Consider the conditions we each exist in. “Due to the nature of information saturation and monetisation, your work may not be met with undiluted attention,” says Pascalle Burton. “Audiences/readers focus on, process and navigate unlimited fragments within an energy scarcity. You can acknowledge that this construct is a factor. You could also negotiate to make poetry that accommodates it. Understand, though, that if your work isn’t selected or recognised, it is not necessarily rejection; it may just be missed among the constant content in an unfair and chaotic world.”

6. Keep in mind: the biggest success is in writing a poem, not publishing it.

How to support poetry

Don’t be a jerk

1. Conduct yourself with compassion. This isn’t to say that you cannot advocate for your work – by all means, ask for what you need and reject unfair treatment – but bear in mind that most of the people you’ll be dealing with in the world of poetry are underpaid, overworked artists who are trying their absolute best.

2. Follow through on agreed work, or at least communicate when you cannot. Of course, things happen, and we all need some flexibility in negotiating deadlines and creative work around our other life commitments. But please try not to waste people’s time and resources. Your creative merit is important as a poet, but so are your admin skills. Good communication, punctuality, mutual respect and reliability gives programmers and editors confidence in commissioning you, again and again.

3. Air your grievances privately, carefully and offline among trusted friends. Avoid the urge to be needlessly petty. Remember: there is a difference between real harm and personal beef. Don’t send an angry retaliation to a rejection email. Don’t behave bitterly towards someone who got an opportunity you wanted. By all means, feel your feelings, but have a safe, contained outlet for managing these difficult emotions.

Invest in poetry

Give us your money. Just kidding, kinda. But if you’re looking for support, attention and opportunities within the literary scene, ask yourself if you’re participating reciprocally in these communities.

1. “Support the community you aspire to be part of/supported by,” says Jessica Wilkinson. “This doesn’t just mean buying poetry books and literary journals, though you should try to do that whenever possible. You could also read poetry books by borrowing through your local or university library and that, too, feeds the ‘economy’ of poetry and supports poets via the Copyright Agency Read widely, read local. Understand the poetry ecology. Be respectful and kind to editors wherever possible; be generous and open-hearted.”

2. Care, care, care. Show up to poetry events, donate to poetry orgs, tell people when you like their work (we don’t say or hear it enough!), etc. Demonstrate an appetite for poetry through your presence, support and dollars, within your means and capacity. Read the poems your friends publish (don’t just hit ‘like’).

3. If you’re submitting to journals, read and subscribe to those journals. If you want to publish a poetry book, buy/borrow and read poetry books. If you want to get, you should also try to give. The more economic support for poetry, the more books, journals and opportunities will exist for us all.

Cultivate a sense of community

Writing may feel like a solitary practice at times, but it doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Everyone needs at a trusted reader, an accountability buddy and a cheerleader (sometimes, this is all the same person). Here are some ways you can build healthy relationships within the poetry world:

1. Participate in writing groups, join book clubs, exchange poems for feedback, attend launches and readings, and otherwise connect with poets. This can be a formal arrangement – for example, applying for mentoring and professional development groups, such as Express Media’s Toolkits for young writers – or it can be loosey-goosey.

2. Write collaboratively! You needn’t go it alone.

3. As within any artform or genre, engage critically your own context and positionality, working to unpack biases and tend to your artistic ego (we all have one). “Be alert to the systems in place within poetry (as in all fields) that influence norms and hierarchies, as well as what – and who – is considered valuable, well-suited and successful,” says Pascalle Burton. “These have been produced over time through embedded structures, shaped by colonialism and capitalism, and are not neutral. If you are going to participate in the field of poetry, I recommend noticing what seems effortless, who is on the ‘inside’ of poetry and who is on the periphery or absent. Notice the publications and producers who work to challenge norms, then make your moves accordingly as an active observer and accountable participant.”

4. Don’t be one of those people who are only interested in their own art. A spirit of reciprocity, mutual support and connection truly is its own reward, and an openness to other opinions will improve your work markedly. Also, those people are very boring.

To close off, some words from Π.O.

In case nothing else here tickled your fancy, please enjoy the sage wisdom of Π.O., which is a poem in itself:
          
          First thing is, don’t be STUPID!!! What i mean is don’t be IGNORANT!!! Get rid of that thought [feeling] about you being a GENIUS cos you can create “sentences”, you are NOT! Writing poetry is HARD work! You are NOT the centre of the universe so quit using all that iiiiiiiii, and me me me me me m…. and don’t HIDE behind that “you” in your poems.

          Second: IGNORANCE means you don’t know where you are!!! i.e. you DON’T know what the lie of the land looks like! To be a good [great] writer/poet you have to know the TRADITION out of which you come from or are going into. That means read EVERYBODY!!!! Don’t worry about being INFLUENCED!!! You HAVE TO BE INFLUENCED!!! That’s the only way in!!

          Third, get rid of that STUPID idea that you KNOW what a POEM looks like!!! A poem can look like ANYTHING!!!! Thinking that it must look like a series of waves going down the page, handcuffs you!!! Doesn’t let you look at the LANGUAGE or let the LANGUAGE do its job! BRANCH OUT!!!!

          Four: REMEMBER, that it doesn’t matter WHERE you start, in time you will get to write or create what you HAVE TO – the poetry will take you there – listen to it! It is only when the “draft” begins to talk to YOU that you have a hope in hell.

          Five: forget getting published on line!!!! It’s a trap! You need HARD COPY!!! language that stands still!!! Not flickers!!! EDIT ON PAPER!!! Hands-on! In the surround-sound! and on the shop-floor! That’s where the action is!

          Six: Performance poetry has go NOTHING to do with ACTING!!! It has to do with “utterance” – most people “speak” better than they can “write”.

          Seven: watch your stereotypes!!! Don’t BE one.

          Eight, that should do it for now? – Π.O.